


Trust

by 88Madison88



Category: South Park
Genre: Angst, Craig and Red are cousins, Crenny, Denial, Drama, Eric is a douche, Flashbacks, Hurt!Craig, Hurt/Comfort, If You Squint - Freeform, Lots of Angst, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Secrets, Self-Harm, Signs of PTSD, Some Fluff, Style moments, Trauma, co-written with scarylolita, like always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-24 16:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 51,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7514869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/88Madison88/pseuds/88Madison88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All I wanted was to go about my days and live my boring life in this mountain town I call home… but this is South Park, so obviously shit is going to go down.</p><p>Craig's life takes a dramatic turn because of one secret and Kenny will do anything in his power to help him. The question is, does Craig even want help? Co-written with scarylolita. Originally posted on Fanfiction.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! How ya'll doing? So, here's something totally new! My very first South Park fanfic! I wrote it with one of my favourite authors, scarylolita and I must say she is quite the talented writer. Not to mention, she's also very nice :) I would totally recommend reading her stories!
> 
> So enough with this Author's Note! Hope you enjoy the first chapter of Trust!
> 
> South Park belongs to Trey Parker and Matt Stone! We own nothing!

Craig's POV

Anger. That is the one thing that goes through my mind. After having a crappy day at school, I make my way home only to be greeted with the sound of silence. Typical.

"Hello to you too, Craig," I say to myself bitterly.

My family is never home. Mom is always at work, Dad is always at the bar and Ruby is always with McCormick's little sister. What's her name...? Karen?

Whatever, I couldn't give a shit.

Anyway, I make my way upstairs and into my room. I'll attempt to do my homework, but it's most likely I'll just get too lazy and copy off of Broflovski tomorrow when he isn't looking.

I toss my book bag onto the floor and turn to Stripe's cage, only to find him lying still. My voice gets caught in my throat. "Shit," I murmur to myself, turning away.

I should be used to it by now. He's a guinea pig. They don't have a long life span. I'll go to the pet store tomorrow and get another one. I'll name him the same name and pretend none of this happened because it's easier.

I go to my closet and empty a shoebox full of trinkets and old photographs. I reach into Stripe's cage and pull him out, putting him in the box and closing it. Doing this always makes me feel gross. I go downstairs and outside. In the back yard, I dig a hole. Then the deed is done. The hardest part is over… and maybe it's stupid to get so attached to a rodent, but he's the only thing waiting for me when I get home. He depends on me to live. He needs me. Well, that's how I look at it. God, I sound so sentimental and melodramatic I'm gonna throw up.

I stand up and look at the homemade grave. I can feel my eyes glaze over, but I close them and shake my head.

'He was just a guinea pig. A rodent. Don't be such a pussy.'

I've always made sure to never get too attached to things, people or pets. When you're attached to something it's just more painful when the inevitable goodbye arrives. I found that out the hard way when my grandmother died 2 years ago.

I don't want to go through that ever again, so I now refuse to interact with people – even my own family. The closest thing to communication in our house is the classic middle finger and an occasional "fuck you." It might be unhealthy, but it works for me and I don't intend on changing that.

I'm brought out of my thoughts when my phone starts to vibrate. It was my boss.

"Shit." I answer the phone and hesitantly bring it up to my ear. "Hello?" I greet in a deadpan.

"Where the hell are you Tucker?! You're 10 minutes late!"

"Sorry, sir," I say flatly. "I'm on my way."

I hang up the phone and sigh.

.

.

It doesn't take me long to walk there. I work at a convenient store. It's a simple, boring job.

When my boss spots me, he looks irritated. I don't bother apologizing again. He says, "You're here alone for the night. Think you can handle it?"

"Yes," I say flatly. It's hardly rocket science.

"I've got an appointment," he continues, "But I'll be back afterward, so sit tight."

"Okay."

He disappears in the back room, probably to grab his things. Once out, he waves to me and leaves through the front exit.

I sigh, standing behind the cash register. I pop it open. Not much inside. He must've cleared it out before leaving. I know he doesn't trust me. Not that I'd steal. That would just cause me way more trouble than it's worth. The last thing I want is trouble.

Just then, the door opens and the last person I ever want to see walks in.

"Oh shit," I whisper under my breath.

"Hey, Craig," he says, grinning.

I sneer in response. "What do you want, McCormick? You know work and home are the only places I don't have to see you. Don't ruin that for me."

Kenny pouts. "Aww, c'mon Craig, you know you like me." He wiggles his eyebrows until I grunt in disgust.

"Whatever," I brush off his advances, "Just get what you need and get out. I'm not in the mood."

He takes a step back, surprised. "Whoa, what's got you so uptight?"

"Don't wanna talk about it, now are you gonna buy something or not?"

I can tell he wants to press on, but thankfully, he doesn't. "Yeah, just give me a carton of cigarettes."

He takes his wallet out of his backpack and opens it, only to realize he's three dollars short. "Shit," he says sulking. "Oh well, looks like I won't get my nicotine fix today." His sulk turns into a smile. "I'll just talk to you till your done work."

Oh, hell no.

I toss him the cigarettes and say "Take 'em. Just give me the three dollars at school tomorrow, now get out."

Kenny looks at me and grins again. Always fucking smiling. I don't know how he does it. "Thanks Craig!"

He takes out a cigarette and leaves the store. Finally.

It quiets down as it gets later and I'm standing here trying to pass time by counting ceiling tiles. After what seems like an hour, the bell rings and the door opens yet again. Prepared to let out a loud groan, I catch myself. This is when I start to panic. I've seen enough movies to understand where this is about to lead. I'm here with the cash register and he's there in a ski mask. I don't even need to put two and two together.

"Fuck," I deadpan aloud.

The guy in the ski mask comes up and points his gun to me. "Give me all the money you got, kid!"

Without any hesitation, I go to open the register. I struggle a little because of my shaking hands, but my face shows a calm demeanor. When I open the register I remember there is nothing in it except a few small bills. Fuck.

"C'mon kid! Before I blow your damn brains out!" He holds the gun to my head impatiently.

I put my hands up in defense. "Sir, there's no money in the register, I would give you what I have but I don't have any money on me."

The robber looks at me with narrow eyes and inches his face closer to mine. His breath reeks of alcohol. Sick.

Suddenly, he begins to smile slyly. "You know, you're a pretty guy."

"What're you talking about?" I ask, holding no emotion in my voice.

Slowly, his eyes begin to travel up and down as if he's surveying me.

Oh.

OH.

Oh, no...

I swallow harshly and let out a shuddery breath. I don't want to start begging, but I definitely don't want to take whatever this creep wants to dish out.

He doesn't lower the gun. I can still feel it pressing hard against my forehead. Part of me wants him to just pull the trigger, but another part of me wants to live and die on my own terms – not someone else's. Part of me wants my boss to return and save my sorry ass, but the other part wants to ensure this is a private humiliation. I close my eyes. "What do you want, then?" I ask. My voice trembles, though I try hard to keep it steady.

Truth be told, I'm a virgin and I'm definitely not looking to change that any time soon. I guess sometimes we aren't given a damn choice. People are awful and I hate them. This just gives me yet another reason for being such a misanthropist.

"Oh, I think you know," he says lowly. He reaches a hand down, hooking a finger in the rim of my pants.

"Please, don't do this in here," I whisper. I'm shaking by now no doubt. "People could come in. There's an alleyway out back."

He growls in irritation before simply saying, "Fine."

With a surge of aggression, he grabs me and I stumble on my way out from behind the counter. Once I'm in front of him, he takes my arm, forces it behind me and jabs the gun into my back.

"If you don't give me what I want, you're fucking dead, kiddo."

He pushes me out of the empty store. I am secretly hoping that someone will see me being forced into the alleyway, but much to my dismay, it is deserted outside.

Once in the alley, I'm pushed onto the ground. I place my hands in front of me before I hit the pavement. The rough impact causes the gravel to embed in my skin, no doubt causing them to bleed.

I try to zone out. We've talked about this kind of thing in health class. They offered a "rape prevention" informative course. Girls were encouraged to take it, but boys weren't. I guess that says something about the shitty world we live in.

I didn't think much about the whole thing. I just thought that it was a pile of fear-mongering bull, but maybe I should've gone anyway. I wonder, if I did, would it have helped? Would I have acquired a magical skill that would've allowed me to talk my way out of this? Probably not.

I take a deep, quiet breath and hold it in for a minute before letting it out. I can do this. No one will ever know. I'll take it with an empty mind.

I close my eyes as his hands slide beneath the rim of my pants and I immediately start to shake.

This is humiliating.

And my boss is going to kill me if he finds out I left the store alone.

He flips me over and pins my wrists above my head. I let out a small whimper as he straddles me. The meek sound leaves my throat without permission and I can feel my entire body burning.

"Don't worry," the criminal says. "I'm sure you're going to enjoy this, just as much as I am."

Using one hand to restrain me, my attacker launches for my mouth. His other hand begins to tear at my shirt, ripping the buttons off in no time. He begins to touch my skin, occasionally pinching at it. Without warning, nails begin to dig into my flesh, causing me to gasp. I feel his tongue in my mouth, his spit searing down my throat. I want to bite off the invasive muscle, but I force myself to remain still.

Slowly I can feel my own body betray me. I think that is the worst part.

"See," my masked attacker points out. "You like it."

I feel absolutely disgusted in myself. I know I don't have a lot of respect for myself, but this? This is an all-time low, even for me.

'C'mon, just allow him to do what he wants and it'll all be over.'

But my disgust becomes too much for me and I forcefully sink my teeth into his tongue. He screams and jerks his head back.

"You little fucker!" He yells, holding his mouth. He brings his fist down and hits me square in the eye. I bite my lip, refusing to scream out in pain. No doubt I'm gonna have a shiner the next morning.

Grabbing my face, he brings it close to his and says. "Do that again and I'll do more damage to your pretty little face. Or maybe, someplace lower…"

His hand travels down south. I'm tempted to try to kick him off of me, but I know there really is no point. So I just lay still as this sick fuck continues to violate me.

After unbuttoning my jeans, he slowly slides the zipper down. I can still hear it in my mind. The long, undeniable sound of the little, metal trail being undone. Without hesitation, his hand begins to move further, my breath begins to quicken and my heart accelerates to an unbelievable speed.

My skin feels clammy as it's forced to greet the cool air. Hands push and feel and pry. I bite the inside of my cheek, staring far away from my attacker. Attacker… I keep saying that, but is it even the right word for this? I'm lying here letting it happen. If I don't, I'll only be making things harder for myself.

My eyes are burning. I'm not a crier, but fuck, I want nothing more than to cry right now. I won't, though. Not here, not now.

My legs are pried apart and I continue to stare into empty space - into the dark sky, up at the moon, the stars. I want nothing more than for them to just... take me away.

I'm brought out of my daze when I hear the sick fuck undo his belt and zip his fly down.

The water in my eyes begins to well up even more, blurring my vision. This isn't okay. This isn't okay. This isn't o-fucking-kay.

"This is gonna be fun," my attacker says sinisterly.

I glance away as he exposes and position himself. I take a deep breath and brace myself for the immense pain I'm about to endure. 'Mind over matter Craig,' I think to myself, staring at the blurry stars above me. 'It'll all be over soon.'

I'm too scared to move, to breath, to blink. I nearly choke as the pain takes over - a sharp, burning sensation makes its way through every inch of my body. I let out a sharp gasp, only to have a hand pressed over my mouth. I let out a muffled, pained moan, followed by a sob. It hurts. It fucking hurts. Everything fucking hurts and I'm getting nauseous.

I said I wasn't going to cry, but fuck it. What do I have left?

"Don't whine like a bitch," he hisses. "Take it like a man."

But I'm not a man. I'm a scared kid who got his ass into something he couldn't handle.

He continues moving above me, grunting, thrusting, making sounds I don't want to hear. His other hand rakes across my stomach and I'm beginning to realize that everything is ruined. It won't be the same after this. When this is over, I'll be another victim to the world's most heinous crime. I'll be part of a statistic that's far too large.

Then again, maybe everything has been ruined long before now. This is just the whipped cream on my sundae of shit.

I wonder if there's blood. I wonder if I'll get sick or diseased or infected. These thoughts make me even more nauseous.

"Ugh...so tight..."

Disgusting.

I feel disgusting.

I continue to scream into his hand as more tears fall down my face.

His thrusting becomes rougher, faster, and harder. I can feel him pulsating, throbbing inside me.

Fuck, I think I'm gonna be sick.

The pain becomes too unbearable. I feel like I'm going to fucking pass out. No, I feel like I'm going to die.

Without warning, I feel a warm sensation make its way into me.

"Wow..." the pervert whispers. "That was amazing..."

As he pulls out, I can feel something wet leaking out of me. I can tell I'm on the verge of unconsciousness. 'I'm going to fucking die like this,' I can't help but think.

But suddenly, there's a huge crash, like the sound of garbage cans toppling over. The pervert on top of me looks over quickly and stands up, making himself modest. A second later, I hear him snort, "Heh, the fuck is this?"

I can hear footsteps from the opposite direction approaching. Someone else is coming.

"G-get out of here!" the pervert shouts. "Who the fuck are you!"

Soon, I can hear the start of a fight but I can't bring myself to budge an inch. After what feels like a minute I hear a thud.

The unknown person walks up to me and kneels down. He's mumbling something but I can't tell what it is. He takes my hat and puts it back on my head, making sure it's secure.

After he's done, he takes what appears to be his sweater and puts it around my shoulders.

The last thing I remember before succumbing to unconsciousness is my unknown savior saying, "You're going to be okay."

Ha…


	2. Chapter 2

Kenny's POV

It's kind of true that poor people live in clusters, though I wouldn't admit that to Eric. It's pretty late, but I decided to get out and clear my head. I guessed it would've also be a pretty good idea to see if there was any crime going on. I haven't checked in a while.

This is how I found Craig and Jesus Christ, it's not a pretty sight. After beating the shit out of this prick, I hurry over to Craig's side. My voice cracks as I turn him over. "Fuck." I put his chullo hat back on, tugging it over his head and ears. I try to put his other clothes back on but his shirt is completely torn, and I think it would be too painful for him if I put his jeans back on. Instead, I remove the sweater I'm wearing. It's pretty big, so I'm sure it'll cover Craig. He's a lot smaller than I am. He may have been the tallest kid in elementary school, but now I've got a good four inches on him. He's really fucking thin too. It makes me feel sick to my stomach seeing him in such a state. After a couple minutes of struggling I manage to get the sweater onto Craig. It goes down to his thighs, covering him modestly.

"Hey, you're going to be okay," I whisper. What should I do now? He'd kill me if I took him to a hospital, but shouldn't I? He's hurt badly.

So, here I am with two unconscious bodies, not sure what to do with either of them. I debate whether or not to run into the store and see if I can find something to tie up the criminal, but I decide against it. Craig needs help and is my main focus right now.

I decide to just take him home. If he won't let me take him to the hospital, I should at least take him some place where he feels safe.

"Craig," I whisper. "C'mon man, stay awake…"

I gently shake him and he opens his eyes slowly. "McCormick?" he croaks. "What –"

I cut him off. "Dude, I'm gonna take you home. Let me help you up."

"No, I don't need your help." He says stubbornly. Pushing me away, he rises slowly. I stand up in front of him, ready to catch him if he falls. He winces, hissing aloud. I've never seen him in such a vulnerable state before. I don't hesitate to offer him assistance. As I hold him, I look down to see that there is a bloody smudge between his legs. God. Fuck…

"Here, hold onto me," I instruct softly. Hesitantly, he wraps his arms around my neck and I carefully lift him up bridal style. As I start to walk, he closes his eyes. "I know it's painful," I say as gently as I can. "But you'll be home soon. I promise." He puts his head against my shoulder as his breathing begins to slowly relax.

It's quiet at the Tucker residence, thank God. Everyone is either asleep or gone out. Either way, I won't have to talk to his parents. I have a hard time lying and I'd just end up telling them what I witnessed. I don't know what kind of parents Craig has or how they'd react to such awful news.

I've only been to Craig's house once and we were little kids, but everything is the same. I bring him to his room, which is also the same. Plain, light blue walls and beige carpets. Everything seems to have its own place. It looks lifeless, like a guest room. If it wasn't for the guinea pig cage, I'd assume Craig moved rooms. I set him down and move towards his closet, getting him a fresh change of clean and comfortable clothing. He watches in a daze, not speaking or protesting my actions. I take his things to the washroom and set them on the counter before drawing him a bath.

I sit on the edge of the tub and wait for the water to get hot. When I turn around, Craig is hovering in the doorway with crossed arms and a hardened expression. "What are you doing?" he asks me flatly.

"Taking care of you," I say.

"Why?" he asks in that same, flat voice.

"Because I think you need it," I tell him.

He scoffs, rubbing a palm down his weary face. "Right... I need it," he mutters.

I hold out a hand and say, "Come on."

He takes a slow step forward, watching me carefully. "You expect me to strip and bathe in front of you, McCormick?"

"No," I say. "I can leave the room if you want."

He remains tight-jawed. His eyes are glassy and I can tell how hard he's trying to hold it all together. He looks down and hugs himself tightly, digging his nails into the fabric of my hoodie.

"No. I don't want to be alone. Just... don't look at me when I'm changing."

I simply nod. Normally Craig would want me to, in his own words, get the fuck out. Either that or he'd call me a perverted asshole and flip me off.

After the tub is full, I turn off the tap and face the wall as he strips off the baggy sweater and his hat.

I stay in my position as I hear him step into the tub. Once he tells me it's okay to turn back around, I do. The sight in front of me makes me want to cry. Craig is sitting with his head in his knees, which are drawn into his chest. The water is pretty warm, but I can still see him visibly shake.

I crouch down next to him and begin to bathe him. He doesn't move though, which makes it a little more difficult for me, but I don't mind. He can do whatever he's currently comfortable with. Once I'm finished cleaning him up, I grab the towel on the sink and hold it in front of me. I avert my eyes as Craig stands and wrap the blue, fluffy towel around him.

I turn away from him as he steps out of the tub so he can change.

Once he gives me an okay, I face him again and try to help him out of the bathroom. "McCormick, I'm not dying. Stop treating me like I'm about to croak." He slowly makes his way back to his room on his own. But I can tell he's still struggling to walk. He keeps shifting his weight and his steps are slow and cautious.

I drain the tub and walk to Craig's room. I'm about to open the door, but I'm stopped when I hear quiet sobs.

I feel myself frown, hesitating before I enter. Craig is sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched over. In all honesty, I'm at a loss. I've never helped someone through something this bad before. There's no way I can fix it or make it okay, is there?

This is one of my greatest faults as a person and Kyle is always calling me out on it. I try to fix people. People can't be fixed like a broken stitch in your favorite shirt. Some messes can't be cleaned with a rinse. Nonetheless... I still try. Now is no different.

"Craig," I say his name quietly. "What do you need me to do?"

"Shut up," he sobs pleadingly. "I can't fucking think right now, so stop making me!"

"I'm sorry," I apologize gently. I move forward gingerly, taking the seat next to him. For what feels like a long time, we sit here and neither of us speaks. I don't mind.

After a while, I look over and notice that Craig's calmed down a little. His sobs have turned into small hiccups. I glance at the clock and notice it's 1:30 in the morning. He must be fucking exhausted.

I finally break the silence. "Craig?" I say quietly. He says nothing in response. I try saying his name a little louder but he still doesn't respond. I reach over and touch his shoulder softly. Suddenly he jumps away. "Don't fucking touch me!" he hisses.

"I'm sorry," I apologize sincerely. "It won't happen again."

He looks up at me from his position and sighs shakily. "What do I do?" he asks. "How can I..." he trails off, but I understand the question that went unsaid.

"I don't know," I tell him, "but I kind of understand."

"Really?"

I nod. "When I was a kid a guy took naked photos of me... I don't think I truly understood the severity of it at the time."

"Is that why you're such a whore?" Craig asks tersely.

I smile hazily, not taking the insult to heart. He's angry. I get it. "Maybe," I say. "I mean, it's different than what you experienced, but I understand what it's like to experience the worst parts of humanity. People... can be really disgusting."

"Yeah," he whispers. "I hate them." He is about to say something more but is interrupted with a small yawn.

I laugh a little. "Tired?"

He nods. I stand up as he gets under his blue blanket. He winces in pain as he tries to find a comfortable position. Once he stops moving I say goodnight to him. I'm just about to turn around and leave when I hear him call my name.

"Yeah?" I say.

"Can..." he hesitates. "Will you... stay the night?"

I'm surprised by this. It's the last thing I would think to hear out of Craig Tucker. He looks down, like he's shy… or maybe he's just embarrassed. "Are you blushing?" I ask.

He glares at me. "Shut the fuck up. Will you stay or not?"

I smile. "Sure."

Even though we both have school tomorrow, I don't mind staying the night. I highly doubt Craig will want to go to school anyway.

"You can sleep on the couch downstairs." Craig says, trying to stifle another yawn. "There's a blanket and a pillow in the cabinet under the stairs."

I nod and go downstairs, but once I reach the bottom the front door opens. Ruby enters and gives me a strange look. "Kenny?" she questions.

"Ruby," I greet. "Why are you here?" she asks, shutting the door once she's in. She kicks her shoes off and hangs up her coat.

"I'm crashing tonight," I tell her.

She gives me a strange look and then asks, "Is Craig okay?"

It's like she has a sixth sense. I just say, "Yeah, he's all right." What a load of crap, but I know he'd flay me if I let the truth slip out to his little sister.

"Okay," she murmurs, going upstairs.

I round the corner and enter the living room, grabbing blankets from the cupboard and settling in for the night.

.

.

Come morning, I wake up to see Thomas Tucker staring at me. I sit up and smile sheepishly. His wife is behind him, giving me the same strange look. "Kenny McCormick?" she asks.

"Yeah," I say, stretching my limbs. "Sorry. Craig let me crash here last night. I, uh, well, my parents had some friends over so the place was pretty loud."

"I see," she says slowly. It doesn't sound like she quite believes me, but she doesn't push.

"We got in late," Thomas cuts in. "You boys better have behaved."

"We were good," I promise, smiling politely.

"Of course you were, dear." Mrs. Tucker says, smiling in return. I've broken past the ice. God, I'm such a charmer.

She looks at the clock in the living room. "Oh crap. I better get going. Work starts in 30 minutes." She pecks her husband on the cheek and grabs her car keys before heading out the door.

"I gotta head to work too," he says, staring at his watch. He then turns his gaze to me. "You wouldn't mind waking Ruby and Craig up, would you?"

I shrug. "Sure, no problem."

"Thanks. There's some cereal in the kitchen if you want breakfast." Mr. Tucker walks out of his house, closing the door a little too loudly for my comfort.

I get off the couch lazily and make my way up to Ruby's room. I knock on her door and say. "C'mon Ruby, time to get up!"

"Fuck off," she responds groggily.

I decide to go try Craig. I knock before simply walking right in. All I see in the dim room is a head of dark hair poking out from beneath the duvet. "Hey," I greet quietly. "You awake?"

"Hn..." he grunts, sitting up. He looks tired and dead to the world.

"Your dad wanted me to wake you," I add.

Craig scoffs, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Of course... it'd be too much damn trouble for him to try and do it himself."

I make a face, not really sure what to say to that. I shake my head, trying to forget his comment. "Anyway, do you want to just stay home?"

He snorts. "No."

I raise my eyebrows.

He huffs, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I do. But I can't. If my parents found out I skipped out on school again, they'll ground me." He shakes his head, smiling bitterly. "Holy shit, I sound like Butters."

I laugh a little, nearing him and taking a seat on his bed. "Well, I'm sure this is a perfectly good reason." I almost catch myself saying 'If your parents knew...' But thankfully I bite my tongue.

"Whatever." He tries to get up, but cries out a little. "Fuck…!" He lets out a groan and I don't hesitate to help him to his feet.

"Craig," I start cautiously, "if school is too much for you, then promise me you'll go home."

He dismisses my concern with the wave of his hand. "My boss is going to choke me..." he murmurs. "Literally."

"Tell him you got really sick," I say. "Like, sick as in you went to the hospital. Tell him a customer called 911 for you or something."

Craig wrinkles his nose. "Think he'd fall for it?"

"Depends how good you are at lying," I offer with a hazy smile.

"There are cameras," he adds in a murmur. "Though he only checks them once a week…"

"Oh," I wrinkle my nose.

He lets out a long sigh. He still won't look at me. He looks right past me. "I'm embarrassed," he says flatly.

"I know," I whisper. I think I'd be even more concerned if he wasn't. If he was okay with what happened. If he was calm. I'd probably be worried he was about to off himself. I don't want that to happen. I like Craig. Maybe I like him more than I should. I've always been a little drawn to him. Unfortunately, the feeling was never mutual.

.

.

After giving Craig some privacy, he is now dressed and ready. Well, if you consider plaid pajama pants and a sweater to be ready. He's never been one for looking trendy.

We both go down stairs to meet Ruby in the kitchen and have some breakfast.

"I'm not hungry." Craig says as he gingerly sits down.

Ruby and I share a look, nonetheless forcing some food into him. Once we all finish our breakfast, we head to school. Craig stands up, but winces. He walks slowly and soon Ruby begins to question him. "Craig, why are you walking so funny?"

Once he reaches the door, he answers, but refuses to look at her. "I'm not walking funny."

She raises an eyebrow. "Yes, you are. You're limping." She begins to walk toward her brother, but stops once he says. "Ruby, I'm fine. Nothing's wrong. Just mind your own damn business."

He grabs his bag and slams the door, obviously upset. Ruby turns to me, looking defeated. She can tell that something is wrong. But she knows not to push Craig to tell her. Pushing never helps.

We all walk to school in complete silence. It's not uncomfortable though. It's actually nice.

Just as we reach the school, Ruby stops me. Once Craig enters the school by himself, she turns to me. "There's something wrong with him, isn't there?" she says, quietly.

I look into her eyes, seeing an enormous amount of concern. I look down and walk away, unable to answer her.

Just as I reach the door, I hear her say, "I will find out. Eventually."

We both walk into South Park High, Ruby's words echoing in my mind.

.

.

Craig calls his boss before school starts. Let's just say he is less than happy. "Tucker!" Craig holds the phone away from his ear, due to the booming voice on the other end. "Why the fuck did I come back to see the store was open, and you weren't in it?! You're lucky nothing was stolen!"

His sighs. Well, now I'll get to see if Craig is a good liar. Part of me is hoping that he is, but the other part of me is hoping that he isn't. "I got really sick, sir. I passed out when I was helping a customer and they called 911."

The tone in his boss' voice changes. I guess I know the answer to my earlier question. Craig's a good liar. "Oh. Craig, are you okay? Look just forget about coming into work tonight. I can just get Cartman to work double time. Just focus on getting yourself better."

Ah, yes. The fat ass works at the same convenient store as Craig. That little tidbit is something Cartman finds much joy in. There are days he comes to school with stories that include Craig's at-work fuck ups. They're few and far between, but it's no secret that Cartman revels in anything that gives Craig a hard time.

Nonetheless, for the first time since everything happened, Craig shows absolute relief. "Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it." He hangs up the phone, only to punch his locker. It wasn't too strong, considering the condition he's in, but the sound still takes me off-guard.

"What's wrong?" I ask, concerned.

Craig closes his eyes and places his forehead on the locker. "Cartman," he says, teeth gritted. "He's going to be working my shift."

I look at him, confused. "Yeah, so?"

"I just remembered something," he says. "Tonight… Tonight we check the cameras. It was my shift and I was supposed to check the fucking thing but now the stupid fatass is doing it."

Oh shit.

"Er," I pause. "I can swing by and steal the tape if you want?" To be perfectly honest, if Cartman ever found out Craig lied, he'd have a field day. He'd love to have something over Craig's head and he wouldn't hesitate to blackmail him. He's shit like that.

"I should go to work," Craig murmurs.

"I don't think Cartman will piece anything together, even if he does see the tapes," I offer. "He'll know you lied, but he won't know what followed after you left. You can't hear voices on those cameras. They're mainly for monitoring thieves, right?"

"Yeah," Craig sighs.

A loud, shrill noise interrupts us and begins to ring throughout the school.

I sigh. "Time for class." I grab my books from my locker, which is beside Craig's, and close the door.

"I'll see you."

Craig gives nothing but a slight nod before we go our separate ways.

.

.

I walk into my art class and take my seat. About ten minutes of the teacher lecturing, Kyle, who's beside me, starts questioning me.

"Dude, where were you at the bus stop? We didn't see you."

I shrug my shoulders. "Just felt like walking to school today."

He gives me a weird look, but shrugs his shoulders. "Also, Karen said she texted you, but never got a reply. She said you never came home last night."

My eyes widen. "Oh fuck!" I whisper harshly.

I reach in my pocket and grab my cell phone and turn it on, only to be greeted with an overwhelming amount of text messages from Karen. Shit. I don't hesitate to send her a nice, long apology. Texting in class has never been a no-no. The teachers don't pay enough attention to the students to care.

A split second, Karen responds with questions in the form of demands.

KAREN: Where were you!

ME: I had to take care of something.

KAREN: Of what? You owe me answers. I sat up all night worrying about you!

ME: Don't worry about it.

KAREN: I can't help but worry!

I pause, frowning and trying to come up with an excuse she'll believe. Then again, I'm a bad liar and she can read me like a book. Good thing we aren't face to face. She probably thinks I was getting into trouble.

ME: I crashed at the tucker house. Didn't ruby tell you?

KAREN: I haven't seen her yet today.

ME: She'll give you the details. I was helping Craig with something. No big d.

KAREN: If you say so.

I put my phone back in my pocket and stare at the teacher, who is still mindlessly lecturing. Karen probably didn't believe me. Together, her and Ruby will try damn hard to dig out the truth. Why don't people understand that sometimes not knowing is for the best. Craig wouldn't want Ruby to worry over something she can't change.

Soon, the bell rings and I go to my next class. Gym. Oh, boy…


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY I haven't posted the chapters to this story, to be completely honest I forgot I even uploaded this on Ao3! The story is complete, it's on fanfiction.net!  
> I'm currently posting every chapter on here now!  
> Once again I am so so so sorry!

Craig's POV

Music class is a joke. All we do is talk about music theory and shit. That's why I never hesitate to take a catnap while our teacher goes on and on. Today is no different, but suddenly, I'm rudely interrupted by a loud voice.

"Craig! Dude, wake up!" Clyde hollers.

God dammit, he's a great guy, but he just doesn't know when to leave me alone. I sleepily open one eye, glaring at him. "What?"

He looks at me, shocked. "Whoa! What happened to your eye?!"

I forgot about my black eye. I have to think fast. What's a good excuse? Ah, got it… "I got into a fight last night on my way home from work." I'm not totally lying, I'm just... leaving out details.

Clyde pats me on the back. "Craig, man… You really gotta stop fighting people."

I'm about to say something more, but the bell interrupts me. "It's time for gym class. C'mon, we're gonna be late." Clyde runs out of the classroom, following the huge herd of students.

Gym?

God, no…

I slowly get up, packing up my books and make my way to my locker. It's not long until I see Kenny at his locker, talking to Karen. She does not look pleased. "Next time you go stay at someone's house, fucking text me! I thought you were dead!"

What a retard.

Kenny brings her into a hug and kisses the top of her head. "I'm really sorry Kare-Bear. I promise it won't happen again."

Barf.

They separate after a moment and Karen walks off afterward. Kenny winks when he notices me and I give him a grimace in response. "Want to skip?" he offers.

"If I skip one more gym class I fail," I admit. "I missed twelve classes already."

"Holy shit!" he exclaims, surprised.

I just shrug. "You know me."

"Yeah," he sighs. "Well, come on, then."

We walk to the gymnasium and into the locker room. Kenny undresses unceremoniously, taking his jeans off and shrugging into a pair of basketball shorts.

I came to school in lazy clothes, so I'm good to go. I throw my book bag into a locker, not bothering to actually lock it. Alongside Kenny, we leave the room, head outside and run laps. I'm light on my feet, trying to ignore the unpleasant pangs shooting up my spine. Ride it out, Craig. Ride it out.

Once we're finished running laps, our gym teacher, Mr. Garrett blows his whistle. "Alright everyone bring it in!"

Everyone makes they're way to the coach quickly while I limp my way there. I can see some of the other students staring at me, mostly Kenny, Clyde, Token and Tweek. I dismiss them, pretending not to notice their concern. Fuck it. It hurts too much.

Once I make it to the group, the coach takes out his clipboard. I just hope he doesn't pick a sport that'll be too painful for me. "Alright, today we're gonna be playing football."

Fuck.

"Team one: Stan, Clyde, Eric, Token," he starts listing off names. "And team two: Kenny, Kyle, Tweek and Craig…" he continues.

"Yes!" Eric shouts. "Not only do we have Stan, but we also have a black person on our team! They're known to be really fast and aggressive when it comes to football!"

Racist trash.

Everyone gets into teams and the game begins. Almost immediately, the fat fuck knocks me down. I fall backwards and land on my ass, letting out a loud shriek. "FUUUCK!"

Everything pauses.

Everyone stares.

"Bruised tailbone, asshole," I say flatly, trying to collect myself.

Eric snickers. "Craig the Fag. What a lie. I bet your asshole is sore from taking a long, thick dick."

"Thanks for the imagery, freak," I mutter, getting to my feet.

"Boys!" the coach shouts warningly. "Play nice."

I hold my hands up innocently and the game continues.

Everything's actually going great. The teams are tied by one touchdown. Despite the sharp pain in my lower back, I continue to run with the football in my hands. Just as I am about to score for our team, I feel all the wind being knocked right out of me. Soon after being tackled by the fat fuck, I land on my back, trying to catch my breath. I look up and everything replays. It's not Cartman hovering over me, but the stranger from the night before.

What the fuck is going on?

I begin to squirm and panic. "Get the fuck away from me!"

Kenny's POV

Craig is almost at the end of the field when Eric tackles him. That stupid cow. They roll on the ground until the Fatass has Craig pinned by his wrists. He must think it's funny.

Out of the blue, Craig begins to scream. Thinking that he's hurt, everyone runs over onto the other side of the field.

Once I reach them, I can hear Craig scream "Get the fuck away from me!"

Everyone is at a loss. Even Eric looks shocked – too shocked to move his fat ass off of Craig's body.

I sprint to Craig's side, shoving Eric off of him in the process. He continues to shout, his head shaking wildly and his eyes darting in every direction. "Craig, dude! You're okay!" He doesn't listen. It's almost like he's in another world.

I cup his face into my hands to restrict his movement and force him to look at me in the eyes. His screams begin to quiet down until you can't hear anything but his heavy breathing. Craig's dark blue eyes stare into my light blue ones. His face returns to its normal, stoic self, but I look closer, only to realize that his eyes are glazed with tears. He lets out a breath and pushes me away.

Whatever just happened, it scared the fuck out of him.

Everyone is staring at the scene Craig made.

"What the fuck?" Eric whispers in disbelief.

Craig stands up calmly, giving the fat ass an airy, careless look before casually walking off the field and back inside the school. I let out a sigh and follow him. "Craig," I say his name. When he notices me following, he starts to run.

Again, I follow. I don't know how long. We leave the school building and enter the main road and Craig doesn't stop until we're at the end of the street. He pauses, hunching over and taking deep breaths. "Shit," I hear him whisper.

Soon, I'm standing behind him. I say his name again and he stands up straight, turning around. "You good?" I ask.

"Fine," he says. "I'm fine."

Liar. He says he's fine, but I know he isn't. The way he looked at me on the field...

"Craig –"

"Don't," he cuts me off, refusing to look at me. Like last night, he hugs himself tightly, looking into empty space. "I'm going home."

He begins to walk away until I step in front of him. "Then let me walk you there."

He shakes his head, glaring. "I'm eighteen fucking years old, McCormick, not some little brat." He tries to push past me but I refuse to move. "Get out of my way!"

"No." I say stubbornly. "Not until I know you're home safely."

I know Craig is absolutely furious with me for treating him like a child, but I don't know what kind of mental state he's in. For all I know, he could jump off the bridge and I am not letting that happen.

Knowing I'm not going to change my mind, he finally gives in. "Fine, you stupid cunt!" he growls.

Maybe it's a dick move for me to keep pushing him, but I think it's for the best. Then again, maybe part of me is being selfish in the worst of times. I want to help him, but I can't. Can I? I need to get the facts straight.

I start chattering mindlessly about silly stuff. Craig hums and grunts at all the right times, but I know he's not paying attention to a damn thing I'm saying. Can't blame him for that. Soon, I run out of stupid shit to say and a silence takes over.

"Uh, hey," I murmur. "Can I say something?"

"If I say no, you'll still say it," Craig points out.

"True," I admit. "I think you should consider therapy."

Craig's mouth twists into a cynical smile. "Therapy," he repeats. "No fucking thanks. Do I really look like the kind of guy who would freely talk to a stranger? I don't think so."

"It's worth a shot," I murmur. "Consider it."

"No," he says.

"Come on," I urge.

"No, douchebag," he repeats, adding an insult.

"It'll get worse," I say quietly. "If you don't get things under control you'll only feel worse."

He doesn't reply. He's quiet. So am I. For a long time, neither of us says anything and it's once again silent.

"That was my first time," he murmurs suddenly.

I can't help but cringe at that. "I'm sorry…" I whisper.

"It's never going to be okay," he says with finality. "It won't ever be the same. I get that."

"With therapy –" I try again, but he cuts me off.

"No, McCormick," he bites out.

"Sorry." I back off.

Soon we arrive at the bottom of his driveway. He waves me off and says, "You don't need to keep following me. Go back to school."

I let out a soft sigh. "Well, honestly, Craig… I think the worst thing for a guy like you is to be alone, especially now, so I'm going to stick around. No one truly wants to be alone, even those who insist they do. They're just trying to convince themselves they aren't completely unhappy. They're just trying to convince themselves they're all right, even when they're so clearly not. You're not okay, Craig. Admit it."

"I know," he murmurs hoarsely.

"I'll hang with you for a bit," I suggest.

"You won't get in shit for skipping?" he asks.

I shake my head. "I can afford to skip a few classes. My parents don't really care and if the school calls I usually get Kevin to pretend he's my dad. He excuses my absence and that's that."

"Smart," Craig murmurs.

I just smile. A moment later, I follow him inside and he doesn't protest this time.

For the next hour we just sit on the couch and silently watch TV. I look at him through my peripheral vision, noticing the small frown on his face.

I begin to think. I glance at the time and soon I come up with an idea. Without warning, I get up from the couch and flick through the channels.

"What are you doing?" Craig asks confused.

I turn my head to face him. "Obviously you're still upset with me and I'm okay with that." I walk back over to the couch and sit down beside him, smiling. "But the least I can do, is make you feel a little better."

He turns his attention to the television, only to be surprised with the title Red Racer appearing on the screen. And for the first time in my life, I finally see Craig Tucker smile. It is small and brief, but a smile nonetheless. There's nothing malicious or cynical about that smile, either. It's a real smile. It makes me want to see him smile more. He's never been one to smile. They're always few and far between. Now it'll probably be even more so.

"Nostalgic," he says airily.

I chuckle, agreeing. "I know, huh?"

We sit and watch. Craig looks like he's lost in the past.

As we continue to have our Red Racer marathon, I notice that Craig has fallen asleep. His arms are crossed and his head is leaning towards the right.

My eyes soften and I smile a little. I'm glad he's finally getting some sleep. He needs it.

I stand up, grabbing the pillow and blanket I used when I slept over. I put them on the floor when I return and gently lay Craig on his side before placing the pillow under his head. Once he looks comfortable, I pull the blanket up to his chin.

"Thanks, Kenny…" he mumbles before falling back asleep.

"No problem."

Before I leave, I decide to grab a pen and paper. I write him a short note and once I am finished, I put the note beside him and exit the house.

If you ever need to talk, just give me a call.

My number is on the back of this note.

I'm back at school just in time for lunch. As soon as I enter the cafeteria and sit at my table, I'm bombarded with questions.

"What the hell happened to Craig in gym class?"

"Is he okay?"

"Was it Cartman's fault?"

Obviously, that last one was Kyle's question.

I decide to answer them, but only with very little detail. "I have no idea, but yes he's okay now." Not. "And yes, it was Cartman's fault."

"Ay!" Eric yells, cheesy poofs spilling from his mouth. Gross.

"You know I'm right, you little shit-head," I say. "You were probably suffocating him with all your fat."

"Kinny," Eric murmurs warningly in response, mispronouncing my name yet again.

Kyle rolls his eyes at the fat ass. "Well, as long as Craig is all right."

"He is," I smile. "Just a bit stressed out is all."

"I understand that," Kyle says with a sigh. He continues to start talking about college applications. Harvard, Stanford, Yale, Oxford, Kings, McGill. I grimace at the mention of university. I definitely won't be going.

"Jew, shut up," Eric says flatly. "No one cares."

Kyle sneers, nudging him in his gut.

"That's okay," I say, patting Kyle's shoulder. "It's cool you're excited."

I wish I loved something as much as Kyle loves school.

We continue to talk about random things, mostly Stan rambling on how he misses being with Wendy. This topic makes Kyle a little uncomfortable, considering that he's liked Stan since seventh grade. I roll my eyes. He's so fucking oblivious. Stan continues on and on about it until we're interrupted.

"Hey, Kenny!" Karen says, smiling.

"Hey, how's my Kare-Bear doing?"

I move over and let her sit in between Eric and I. All the guys know Karen and I have a strong relationship, so they don't rip on me for showing her some affection in front of them. Well, almost all of them.

"Why don't you guys get a room!"

I look at Eric with pure disgust. "Sick, dude! She's my sister!"

Without warning, Karen punches Fat Boy in the mouth, causing him to fall off the bench.

"Whoa, lady packs a punch!" Stan says, laughing.

"Yup," I say, ruffling her hair a little. "I've taught her well."

She grabs my arms, stopping me from messing her hair up. "Kenny! Cut it out, I have to talk to you!" She looks at me with a serious expression.

I stop what I'm doing and tell the guys I'll see them in class. Karen drags me out of the cafeteria and into the hallway. I immediately start jumping to conclusions. "Karen, what's wrong? Are you okay? Did someone hurt you? Where are they? I'm gonna-"

She interrupts me. "Nothing's wrong, Kenny! Just shut up and listen!"

I shut my trap and let her speak. Whatever this is, it sounds pretty serious.

"Ruby is really freaking out about her brother. After hearing about what happened in your PE class, she won't shut up about him." Karen crosses her arms. "She says that you know something. Care to tell me what it is?"

Oh, fuck.

"Hell no," I say. "Sorry, Kare, but it's not your business. It's up to Craig if he wants to tell his sister. I'll tell him she's worried. Maybe talking to her will help him feel better, but... I don't know."

Karen frowns. "Someone hurt him..." she says knowingly.

"Yeah," I murmur.

"Someone hurt him badly," she says in that same, knowing tone.

"Yeah," I repeat myself.

"How?" she asks.

I just shake my head. "I can't say, Kare. I'll tell Craig Ruby is worried, though. I promise."

She sighs. "Alright. Thanks." She turns around, but before she walks away, she says. "But I want you to think for a minute. How would you feel if the same thing that happened to Craig, happened to me?"

"Karen –"

She abruptly turns around. "No, I'm serious. What if I was hurt just like Craig was, but I refused to tell you?" I stay silent. Her voice softens. "You'd feel pretty shitty, wouldn't you? Knowing that something is wrong with the person you love, but they refuse to tell you because they're scared or embarrassed or something." Suddenly the shrill sound of the bell rings throughout the school, signaling the end of lunch. As a few students make their ways into the halls, Karen begins to back away. "Put yourself in Ruby's position and see if you could deal with the fact that your own sibling doesn't trust you. Then, we'll talk."

Soon, Karen disappears in the sea of students. I stare into space. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if Karen was... I can't even think about it. It would kill me if Karen didn't tell me what was going on. I can't imagine how Ruby must be feeling. Loving someone who is hurting, but knowing that they won't even trust you.

But I can't make Craig tell Ruby. It's not my business. It's his and if I were to betray that trust, I know it would be a fatal move. He needs to be the one to reach out.

.

.

After school I make my way to the Tucker house. I leave the school building quickly and start to run, making sure to get there before Ruby. After knocking, I go ahead and let myself in. "Craig?" I call, sauntering up the stairs.

No answer, but I find him in his bed. When he sees me, he sits up and sighs. "Yeah?" he looks at me expectantly.

"Your sister is really worried," I tell him. "Karen told me she was freaking out pretty heavily."

Craig shrugs. "It's not her business."

I nod. "I know it's not. It's yours, but she's your sister. She's your family, Craig. She wants to help you."

Craig wrinkles his nose. "She can't."

"Maybe she can't," I admit, "but if you let her maybe she could give you at least a little bit of relief. It feels good to talk to people."

Craig rolls his eyes, scoffing. "Uh huh, sunshine boy," he says cynically. "Call me when your shuttle lands."

I smile wryly. "Really, Craig. If you open up to the people who love you, it makes things easier."

"Easier," he spits. "How is any of this easy? How is any of this fair?"

"It's not," I murmur, "I'm just saying... it might help. Even if it helps a tiny bit, it'll be worth it."

"Not going to fucking happen." Craig says, stubbornly. He turns onto his side. "They'll treat me differently. Like I'm some sad victim."

"They won't treat you like-."

"How do you know that?" he interrupts venomously.

I stop for a minute. He's right. How would I know how is family is going to treat him? I don't know them at all. I let out a sigh. "I don't. But if I were Ruby, I wouldn't see a victim." I sit myself on his bed, my eyes gazing in his direction. "I would see a survivor."

"A survivor?" he questions.

"Yes, because that's what you are to me."

Craig snorts back a laugh. "Right."

"I know you're big on secrets," I continue, "but it's not healthy to keep too many and they always have a way of coming out."

"Shut the fuck up," he says flatly, turning to face me again. "Are you honestly asking me to tell my little fucking sister that I got held down and fucked in the ass? I couldn't handle her knowing that, okay? She doesn't need to know. It's selfish of her to think she even deserves to know!"

"Okay," I murmur. "I'll back off."

"Will you?" he mutters, not quite believing it.

"Yeah," I promise. "I guess I understand. This isn't about Ruby, no matter how much she wants to help. It's about you and what makes you comfortable."

At the mention of the red haired girl, the downstairs door opens and we hear footsteps coming up the stairs. They pause and after a moment, Craig's bedroom door opens.

"Ruby," Craig says.

"Craig," she returns. "How do you feel?"

He rolls his eyes and smiles at his little sister. "Fine," he says pointedly. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was telling the truth.

Ruby nods her head slowly. "If you say so." She turns around and retreats to her own room after that.

Craig sighs heavily, dropping his head into his hands. "Fuck."


	4. Chapter 4

Eric's POV

"Eric!" My asshole of a boss yells. "I gotta leave the store for a bit. I want you to take the garbage out and then look at the security cameras. See if there was anything strange going on this week."

I huff. "Yeah, yeah. I got it."

"Just don't screw anything up."

"I SAID I GOT IT!" Christ, what a boner. Once he leaves, I grab the two garbage bags from the back and take them out to the trash bins.

"Fucking Craig!" I growl to myself. "The fucking asshole, I can't believe I have to work his shift, too. He's so gonna get it."

After throwing the bags out, I'm turn around to go back into the store, only to have something catch my eye.

"Well, what do we have heah?" I get closer to the small object and pick it up.

After wiping the dirt away, I finally see that it's Craig's name tag. I'm a little confused as to why his name tag would be on the ground, so I decide to do a little investigating. Putting the clip in my pocket, I rush back inside and go to the back room. Maybe the security cameras caught him doing something embarrassing or illegal last night. Oh, my God! That would be fucking awesome!

After fiddling with the TV monitor a little more, I finally get to the point when Craig was working yesterday. I fast forward through the tape only to stop when I see the poor boy walk in. He's so fucking gay for Craig the Fag. I press the fast forward button again, but stop when a masked man makes his way into the store, holding a gun. Aw, shit, yeah.

"Hm," I muse aloud, watching as a gun is pressed to Craig's forehead. "Interesting." They exchange some words and the man draws back, looking Craig up and down. "So we've got a pervert in our midst," I murmur. A minute later, the two of them disappear.

What the fuck is that all about? I smile slightly, feeling giddy at the potential of it all. I fast forward the tape again to try and see if anyone came into the store while Craig was MIA. I stop when a familiar figure shows up. It's the poor boy again. I roll my eyes. He probably came back for more flirting, but no luck. Craig ain't there. He looks confused, looking back and forth. A minute later, he's gone as well. I fast forward again and no one else shows up on the tape. That little fuck is lucky no one stole anything. He'd have to get on his knees and lick the boss's balls for forgiveness.

As I continue to fantasize about how Craig is going to be punished, I decide to watch the video again. Just to get a few laughs out of the deal. Yeah. That pervert was definitely checking him out. I continue to watch the video, stopping it once I notice a small detail I didn't see before. He's fiddling with Craig's jeans over the counter. Inappropriate touching. How naughty.

I take his name tag out if my pocket and begin to think. Then it fucking hits me. "No. Fucking. Way." A mischievous grin makes its way onto my face. I pause the video and eject it out of the VCR. I look at the tape in my hands. This is probably the best thing that's ever happened!

You are so fucked, Craig.

.

.

At school the following day, I spot the poor boy at his locker but I don't see the fag. "Ay," I greet.

"Fat ass," Kenny returns.

I smile perversely. "Speaking of asses… How's Craig's?"

Kenny nearly chokes on his own spit. "What?" he coughs.

I revel in the look on his face. "Yeah," I say, still smiling. "I know all about Craig's special work time surprise."

"What the hell are you talking about?" He's playing dumb. How annoying.

"Oh, nothing," I sing, turning around. "Just the fact that Craig was fucked in the ass the other night."

This causes Kenny to react. He moves quickly, pushing me against the lockers. "How the fuck did you find out about that?" he demands.

I shrug. "I have my ways."

Kenny looks at me with something akin to desperation. "Eric, please. I'm begging you. Do not say anything. You of all people should now how it feels! You had a fucking anal probe put into your ass at eight years old! You were basically sodomized by aliens!"

Okay, now I'm seriously pissed off. I grab Kenny and smash him against the locker. See how he likes it.

"I have told you over and over again... That was a FUCKING DREAM!" I shout.

Kenny rolls his eyes. "Look, just forget about what you saw and move on. Go rip on someone else. You can even rip on me if you want!"

The little fucker. He's starting to turn into Kahl!

"Now why the fuck would I do that? Don't think you can Jew your way out of this, Kinny. I could have some fun with this and you're not going to ruin that for me."

"How can you be so heartless?" he asks shakily. "You might not like Craig, but he's a human being in pain and that means something."

"I don't care," I say. "I hate Craig and find enjoyment in his pain."

Kenny stares at me in disbelief. "You're the worst," he whispers. "Karma is gonna bite you in the ass one of these days, I hope you know."

I just smile some more. "Until then, I'll have fun."

Soon enough, Craig saunters down the hallway looking like nothing is amiss. I wink at Kenny and decide to approach him, stopping him in mid-strut. Kenny follows and grabs me arm, trying to stop me from making a scene but to no avail. "Hey, Craig," I simper.

He wrinkles his nose at me. "What?"

"Be nice," I say in the same whiny tone.

"Why?" he asks flatly.

"Because I know something you don't want me to know," I sing-song.

He pauses. "What...?" he pries slowly and softly.

I lean forward and whisper, "How's your ass?"

He shoves me and there's a look of hatred on his face. "Shut the fuck up," he hisses.

"Ah, ah," I tut at him. "I told you to be nice." I give Kenny a humored look and the poor boy looks distraught. I don't know why. It's not like he's the one in fag boy's position.

Craig's POV

I follow fatass' gaze and see Kenny, looking guilty.

I roughly push past Cartman and make my way over to Kenny. Grabbing his arm, I drag him into the empty boy's bathroom and throw him to the ground aggressively. I can't even look at him. "Why?" I whisper venomously. "Of all people! Why would you tell that fat fuck?"

"Craig," Kenny says my name. "I didn't –"

I bang the side of my fist against the wall, interrupting him from speaking. "I fucking trusted you," I spit out. "I trusted you with the biggest secret of my life, and you go and tell..." My eyes begin to burn with anger. I hit my fist off the hard wall again and again until the feeling subsides.

"Craig!" Kenny shouts my name, standing. "C-Craig, stop! Holy shit!"

I don't. He grabs my arms and forces me to hold still. I close my eyes and take a deep, calm breath.

"I didn't tell," he promises.

"Then how?" I choke. "Then how the fuck does he know?"

"I don't know," he whispers.

Then I remember. "The tapes," I murmur, wide eyed. "Fuck..." I lean against the wall, trying to process what I just figured out. "I knew I should've gone into work that day. Why didn't I just go and steal those fucking tapes? Shit!"

"Hey," Kenny says softly. He gingerly cups my face and lifts my head. His blue eyes gaze into mine. "Don't blame yourself for something that wasn't your fault. You didn't know Cartman would have found out." Suddenly, his thumb brushes against my cheek, wiping away an angry tear that is unknowingly swimming down my face. I sneer at him, but he smiles kindly in return. "No one will ever know. I promise."

I can't help but scoff at that. "Nothing goes the way you plan for it to go," I murmur. "You know that as well as I do."

He's still smiling. "Sometimes it does," he offers.

"Eric likes to make things hard," I add. "For everyone."

"I'll... try to control him," Kenny adds.

"Whatever," I say dismissively. "Let's just go to class."

It won't work. Eric Cartman is capable of some fucked up shit.

.

.

Kenny and I make our way towards English class. Obviously he isn't in a hurry, based on how slow he's walking. I can't really blame him. English class is honestly the worst. Not just because of the work, but because Mr. Garrison teaches it. How he got promoted to be a high school teacher is beyond me, but hey, a lot of things don't make sense in South Park.

I open the door and we enter the class room, only to be greeted with everyone's stares and Mr. Garrison's irritating voice. "Well, thanks for finally joining us boys. Do you mind telling me why you little assholes are late?"

All I do is stare at him blankly before flipping him off and taking my seat. Kenny sits at his desk behind Stan and Kyle before answering Garrison's question. I hope he can get away with lying just once. "Sorry, I was stuck in the bathroom. You know how cafeteria food makes my stomach upset."

Not too bad, McCormick.

Stan glances at Kenny before saying, "But dude, didn't you have a baloney sandwich today?"

Well, shit.

Kenny glares at Stan. "Yes I did," he says, gritting his teeth. "And then I realized I had enough money to get some chili, so shut the fuck up Stan."

Stan puts his hands up in defense. "Okay dude, chill out."

After he turns around in his seat, Mr. Garrison is finally able to move on with the lesson. Not like we'll learn anything though. He just keeps going on and on about some show called Pretty Little Liars.

I should've skipped.

.

.

The rest of the day goes by slowly. I'm trying to mentally prepare myself for something inevitably bad to happen since the fat Nazi now knows what has become my biggest secret. Kenny finds me after school and offers me a smile before saying, "Should we go get those tapes now?"

"Yeah," I murmur, "but you don't need you to come with me. I can handle it."

"Ah, that's okay," he says dismissively. "I'll tag along just in case."

I won't fight him on it. The two of us leave the school, careful to avoid Cartman... but I can't keep avoiding him forever.

Once we arrive at the convenience store, we go to the back room.

"Are sure your boss will be okay with this?" Kenny asks, occasionally looking around the corner.

"No. But what do I care?" I say flatly. "I just need you to guard the door in case he comes in here."

Kenny frowns a little, but shrugs his shoulders.

I sit my ass down in the chair gingerly and turn the small television on. But unfortunately... "It's gone," I whisper. "That motherfucker..."

"What?" Kenny asks, looking at me from his post at the door.

"I said it's fucking gone, you retard!" I hiss, sounding shrill. "Cartman stole the fucking tape!" My rage starts to become overwhelming, and before I realize what I'm doing, I punch the small TV screen.

"Holy shit, dude!" my partner in crime yells. He runs over to me to see if I'm alright. It's not like he should worry. It was just a little plasma. They break easily.

Once I calm down, I slowly rise from my seat and walk past Kenny.

"What the fuck?!" he says, scowling.

"What?" I say in a deadpan voice. "It's not like it was made of glass."

"You could've gotten electrocuted!" he exclaims. "Plus, what's your boss gonna say? You broke his TV!"

Oh, yeah. Whoops.

"You gotta stop punching shit, dude," Kenny says warningly. "You can break bones by doing that."

I scoff at him. "Well, damn," I reply flatly. Like I give a flying shit.

"Come on," Kenny nods.

On our way out, the boss sees me and asks, "What're you doin' here, Craig? I told you to take it easy."

"I lost my, um, keys," I lie stupidly. "I wanted to see if I left them here, but I didn't."

"Well, I'll let you know if I see 'em," he says.

"Thanks," I force a smile and leave the store with Kenny alongside me.

Soon, I hear my boss say "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

This makes Kenny snort a little. "Looks like he saw the TV."

I'll just blame the Fatass. Say that he dropped it.

After ten minutes of walking in comfortable silence in the freezing cold, we finally make it to my house. Warmth immediately hits me as I start to shed my jacket, gloves and boots.

"Craig?" my mother calls from the kitchen. "Is that you, sweetheart?"

"Yeah mom, it's me." She hurries into the living room and gives me a small kiss on the forehead. For the first time since everything happened, I finally feel some sort of comfort.

"How are you?" she asks immediately. "Your sister says you seem down lately."

I'm surprised she's taking the time to care. "Uh," I pause. "No, I'm all right."

"Today is my day off," she adds. "I thought I'd make you supper. What would you like?"

"Something light," I tell her.

She smiles. "All right, I can do that," she says before glancing at Kenny. "Will you be joining us?"

"Nah, I've gotta swing back home in a bit," he says. "Just wanted to walk Craig home." He winks at her and I grit my teeth.

"Well, that's sweet of you," Mom says. She retreats to the kitchen a moment later and Kenny looks at me.

"What?" I snap.

"You good?" he asks.

"Mhm," I insist.

"All right," he nods. "Call if you need me."

I roll my eyes and wave him off. I don't bother walking him to the door or anything gay like that. He leaves and I move into the kitchen. My mom is standing in front of the stove. She turns around when she hears me and looks like she wants to say anything.

"I'm... I'm taking a leave from work," she says.

"What?" I ask. "Why?"

"I feel like I've been neglectful," she explains.

I sit at the table and let out a breath. Ruby probably spoke to her and now she's worried. "Is this because of me?"

"No," she says, but I can tell she's lying. I can tell she's worried about me thanks to Ruby.

"Mom," I sigh, "you don't need to do that."

"I love you," she continues. "Me and your father... we love you. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," my voice breaks. "I know that..."

She offers me a shaky smile before turning around again. I watch her pour ingredients into a pot, but remain silent. I stay in the kitchen as she cooks. We're both quiet. Soon, Ruby joins us and we begin to eat dinner in an awkward silence. It feels weird to actually see Mom at the table again. When the silence starts to become too much for her, she starts firing questions.

"So... how's your week been so far?"

Ruby decides to speak up. "Pretty good, Karen and I just finished a huge science project, and Filmore tried to ask me out at lunch a few days ago."

I lift my head up from my dinner and focus on Ruby.

"What did you do, honey?" My mom says, really interested.

I've heard a lot of stories about Filmore, and let's just say he's not the nicest kid in Ruby's grade. "Did you accept his invite?" I ask wearily.

Ruby smiles mischievously. "Nope. I just flipped him off."

Phew. Thank God.

Mom just laughs a little.

"What? He's an asshole," Ruby says, also laughing.

Once the laughs and giggles subside, Mom turns to me. "And how's your week been, Craig?"

'Oh, it's been fan-fucking-tastic. Monday, I came home from school, only to see my guinea pig had died. I was late for work because of that and later in the night, I had a gun held to my head and was fucked in the ass by some masked criminal. Plus this one kid at my school won't leave me alone!'

I'm brought out of my thoughts when Ruby snaps her fingers in my face. "Craig," my mom questions, "are you sure you're okay?"

I nod my head. "Yeah. Just a little pissed Dad isn't here for dinner."

That's not really a lie. I'm upset Mom is making so much effort to be in our lives again, while Dad does jack-shit. Like always.

She stands up and walks over to me. "I know, sweetheart." She puts a somewhat comforting hand on mine and Ruby's shoulders. "He's just... having a hard time at work right now."

"Yeah right," I mumble to myself. I push my food away and stand up.

"Thanks a lot for dinner, Mom, but I'm not hungry. I'm just gonna go to bed."

She gives me a hug. I hesitate, but accept it. It feels good to be near her. "Go right ahead, hon. I'll see you in the morning."

I go upstairs and into the bathroom, to take a piss, brush my teeth and wash my face. Back in my bedroom, I close the door, stripping out of my day clothes. I stare at myself in the mirror on my door. The bruises are healing. I turn away and put a pair of sweats on along with a sweatshirt, flicking the lights off. I flop onto my bed and burrow beneath the blankets. Once I'm comfortable, my door opens up and the light from the hallway seeps in. I squint and sit up. "What?" I ask in a dull voice as I spot Ruby standing there.

"You're okay?" she pries.

"Fuck off," I answer with a sigh, lying back down.

She hovers for another moment before shutting the door. I hear her stomping back down the hallway and into her own room.

.

.

The following morning, I decide to sleep in, unable to find it in myself to get out of bed. Partially because I feel like shit and partially because I don't know what to do.

My mom pops into my room around noon and says, "I called in sick for you."

"Thanks," I murmur.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" she asks, sitting on the edge of my bed.

"Nothing is wrong," I insist. "I'm just tired. I didn't sleep well."

"Is there a reason for that?"

"No," I say with a sigh, sitting up to look at her. "I'm getting sick of everyone asking me if I'm okay and not believing me when I tell them I am."

"You're not very convincing," she says pointedly. "I'm your mother. I know you and I know when you are telling a lie."

"How?" I ask.

She smiles wearily. "It shows on your face. You keep your lips parted after you've told a lie, almost like you're hesitating and there's something else you want to say but you cut yourself off."

I scoff. "Well, I'll be sure to stop doing that."

Mom puts one of her hands on my shoulders. "Sweetheart, I want you to know that you can talk to me about anything," she starts and I continue to look at my hands, avoiding her gaze. "No matter what it is, whether it involves you, school, Ruby or even me, I will always be here to listen."

A moment later, she stands up and heads towards the door before I call her. "Mom?"

She looks back at me and smiles. "Yes?"

Suddenly something comes over me. I get out of bed and move forward, pulling her into a hug. It takes her off guard but she tightly wraps her arms around me. I bury my face into her shoulder, hoping to keep my tears in. "Thank you." I hear my voice crack and I mentally berate myself for it.

"No problem," she says softly. "Do you want anything to eat?"

I shake my head. "I'm okay, Mom. I'll probably have something later."

She looks as if she wants to say something, but bites her tongue. "Okay then, I'll just be downstairs. Call me if you need anything."

And then she's gone.

I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. I run my hands through my hair, feeling a headache coming on. I decide not to give it any thought. Instead, I turn into the bathroom and turn the taps on. I strip down and once the water is hot enough I get in. As I shampoo my hair, I try to think about what I'll do now. I've been trying to avoid thinking altogether, but it's inevitable. One battle at a time, I guess.

After rinsing off, I step out and dry off. I leave the towel on the floor and get redressed before returning to my bedroom. I close the door and look in the mirror, once again examining my bruises. I pull my shirt up and stare at the palm-shaped marks on my back and stomach. They're fading, but not fast enough.

In the blink of an eye, my fucking door opens and my mom is there with a plate of food in her hands. I pull my shirt down quickly, but by the look on her face I know that she's already seen the bruise.

I step aside and she walks in, setting the plate down on my dresser. "Craig," she says my name in that sympathetic tone I hate. "What happened to you? Please…"

"I..." my voice cracks and I take a pause. The words won't come out. "I got mugged."

"No," she whispers, staring at me piteously. "No, you didn't."

I stare at her, trying to keep my expression hardened but I feel myself slipping. I put a hand over my mouth and let out a frustrated sob. "Shut up!" I shout stupidly. She's still giving me that same look and I hate it. "Stop!" I shout at her, letting my hand fall to my side. "Don't look at me like that!"

She closes her eyes for a moment before glancing to the side. "I'm sorry, sweetie," she apologizes. "Do you... Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"No!" I continue to shout at her. "Stop asking!"

I step back and cover my ears, hoping to block out the pity in her voice. I can't handle it. I can't fucking handle it.

Mrs. Tucker's POV

I have never seen my son act this way before. Is this what Ruby meant when she told me Craig was feeling a little down? This is way more than just a little down. Something is definitely wrong.

"Craig, sweetheart," I say, taking a few steps closer. "It's okay." I cautiously continue to make my way over until I'm close to him. I gently place my hands on my son's, bringing them away from his ears and holding them in mine. "Honey, you don't have to tell me what happened. It's your decision whether or not to tell me something and I respect that." He looks up at me with a teary expression and I can't help but find it heartbreaking. "I'm just worried about you, and so is Ruby." I slowly bring him into a loving, but gentle hug. "I won't force you to say anything, baby. It's your choice."

He shakes his head against my shoulder. "It's nothing," he says calmly, drawing back. "I'm fine now."

"Craig," I try to speak gently, "You never cry. You're not fine. At least admit that much."

He briskly wipes his eyes and clears his throat. "Really," he insists. "There's nothing wrong." He presses his lips together and stares at me.

And perhaps, if I wasn't his mother, I'd believe him, but I can tell he's making a conscious effort to erase the evidence of the lie.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is some violence, as well as self-harm in this chapter, so read with caution!

Craig's POV

I can tell my mother doesn't believe a damn word that's coming out of my mouth. "I brought you some food in case you get hungry," she says softly. "I'll be in the living room if you need anything."

I nod my head as she leaves. Once she closes the door, I climb back into bed. Curling myself into a fetal position, I flop onto my side and begin to think. I can't lose it like that again. Just pretend it didn't happen and soon, everything will go away. Return to normal.

Soon enough, I find myself falling asleep, thinking the same thing over and over. 'Don't let them know.'

When I wake up, it's already starting to get dark outside. I sit up; stretching my limbs out from being in a cramped position, then grab my phone. Five messages, plus three missed calls. All from the same person. McCormick. Motherfucking McCormick.

I roll my eyes and toss my phone onto my bed before heading downstairs, only to be greeted with an oh-so-wonderful sight (Note the sarcasm).

"Hey Craig!" Kenny says in his overly cheery voice.

I look over to my mother, who is sitting right beside him. "Your friend is here to drop off your homework," she says with a smile. "Since you missed a new lesson in class, I thought maybe Kenny could help you."

I grimace at the idea. "Fine," I say, nodding to the stupid blond to follow me.

He jumps up, still all smiles, bidding my mother a, "See yah."

We go to my room and I shut the door. I decide to pick at the food my mom brought me while Kenny explains the homework we got.

"I'm definitely no Kyle," he starts, "so it's a good thing we don't have any math. We've just got some English. Garrison wants us to..." As he continues to talk, I space out. After picking at my food, I dismiss myself and go downstairs. I dump the food in the garbage and set the plate down in the sink. I get a glass of water and take a few sips.

Back upstairs, Kenny is lying on my bed with the homework still in his hand. "So, all clear?" he asks.

"Mhm," I murmur. I sit at my desk and open my laptop. Since I have company over, I discreetly clear my internet history. I don't really need him seeing my porn selection. I pull up a blank word document and write my name, the course and the date at the top in an attempt to look busy.

"How do you feel?" he questions out of the blue.

"Fine and dandy," I say carelessly.

"Are you still sore?"

For fuck's sake…!

"I'm not sore," I murmur, "but I will be if you keep fuckin' asking me about this shit."

"What?" he asks stupidly.

"Nothing. Let's just get to work."

For about an hour, Kenny goes on and on about some book. Apparently it's about a guy who's stuck on a boat with a tiger. We all know how that's gonna turn out. "So, what?" I ask. "Does the tiger eat him or something?"

"No," Kenny says, chuckling. "He tries to train it, considering he has no idea how long he's gonna be on the boat."

"Hm."

When Kenny and I finish our English homework, I decide that it's time for him to leave.

"Alright, thanks for helping me with the homework," I rush, pushing him out of my room. "I really should get some sleep."

I'm about to close the door when Kenny blocks it with his foot and pushes it back open with his hand. "Dude," he says quietly. "What's going on? Are you sure you're okay?"

Holy shit, I'm gonna have a fit. "Yes, I'm fucking fine!" I snap. "Can you stop asking me that?"

"Okay dude, chill," he says, putting his hands up in defense. "I was just wondering if –"

"Well, I am okay," I insist impatiently. "I'm great, actually." I try to attempt to smile, but I think it looks more like a grimace. I wave him off and shut the door, trying not to think about tomorrow. It's gonna be hell.

.

.

The following morning, I wake up. I forego showering and changing. I leave as I am and catch the bus. I see Kenny with his idiot friends at the bus stop and he smiles at me, waving. I hold up a hand and wave lazily in return. Kyle nods to me, Stan ignores me and the fat fuck smiles perversely, like he has a big ol' secret. I guess he does, but I'm going to pretend otherwise.

"Did you guys get your homework done last night?" Stan asks.

"Pfft, PUH-lease!" Fatass exclaims. "Homework's for pussies!"

"Good luck trying to get into college with that attitude, fat boy!" Kyle laughs.

"Shut-up Jew!"

Here we go. Those two always have to fight, don't they? As if reading my mind, Kenny looks over at me and smiles sheepishly. "Don't worry, they usually get tired when the bus arrives."

The bus isn't supposed to arrive for another 10 minutes!

They continue to argue until I decide that I've had enough. "Can you guys just shut the fuck up?!" I growl at them. Then silence. The arguing stops. The guys look at me and I can tell they're probably surprised that I spoke my mind. "Thank you."

Finally, some peace and quiet, until...

"Damn, Craig. That was a dick move," Cartman says, acting offended. He waddles over, leading me away from Stan, Kyle and Kenny and puts his arm around my shoulder. "If you're not nice to me, who knows what could happen," he leans in and whispers in my ear. "Maybe that tape of you being diddled will somehow find its way around the school."

I can feel myself shake in anger, my hands clenching into fists. "Shut the fuck up." I shake him off and turn around.

"That's no way to talk to someone..." Cartman simpers in a sinisterly sugary tone. "Say you're sorry, and I might leave you alone for the rest of the day."

Kenny eyes me from a few feet away and shakes his head. "Liar," I murmur to Cartman. "There's nothing I can say or do that'd make you quit being a dick. If you expect me to submit to your every whim then you're sorely mistaken."

Cartman smirks. "All right, then," he says easily. "I'll make you regret it."

I smile sweetly and cynically, causing Kyle and Stan to exchange a look with one another.

It's tense and soon the bus pulls up. I sit by myself only to have Kenny join me a minute later. "I'll try and grab the tapes from him," he says.

"Whatever," I murmur.

I place the side of my head against the glass and close my eyes, hoping the headache I sustained from Kyle and Cartman will go away. I can feel Kenny's gaze on me. No doubt in my mind is he looking at me like my mom was yesterday. I choose to ignore it though and just focus on getting through the day. I'm already having a shitty day. It's not like it could get any worse.

I couldn't be anymore wrong. Ten minutes into my music class, Mr. Mackey calls me to his office.

"Can Craig Tucker please come to my office? M'kay? Craig Tucker to the guidance office immediately."

Great. What could Mackey possibly want? I haven't done anything wrong, for once. I'm excused from class and slowly wander to Mackey's room. Once I reach the door I close my eyes, inhaling a shallow breath. I grab onto the cold, golden doorknob and enter Mr. Mackey's office. I'm stand there, only to be greeted with the sight of Mackey sitting at his desk and Mr. Garrett standing beside him.

"Have a seat Craig, m'kay?" Mr. Mackey says. Hesitantly, I do what I'm told.

"Before we discuss anything Craig, I just want you to know that you aren't in trouble." Mr. Garrett adds.

"Then why am I here?"

Mackey places his hands together on his desk. "Mr. Garrett, along with the other teachers, have noticed a change in your behavior lately, m'kay?"

"And we just want to make sure everything at home is going alright." Garrett finishes.

I force a mirthless smile, trying not to look as irritated as I feel. "Everything is perfect," I say. "Nothing has changed for the worse."

"For the worse," Mr. Mackey repeats. "So, something has changed for the better?"

"Well," I shrug. "My mom is taking time off work."

Mr. Mackey is well aware of my family situation due to my constant trips to his office throughout the years. "That's good, isn't it?" he asks.

"It's great," I say carelessly. I mean, it is great. It's nice to see her trying. "So, maybe I've unconsciously been acting differently but it doesn't mean it's a bad thing."

"All right," Mr. Mackey relents.

"We just wanted to make sure you were okay." Mr. Garrett says, still sounding concerned. "Because, well, after the incident on the football field, we thought something was wrong."

I cringe internally. "That was only because Eric Cartman wouldn't get off me after he tackled me at full speed. I got the wind knocked out of me."

Both teachers mumble agreements, saying something about Cartman needing to lose weight.

I glance at the clock. I've already been in here for almost ten minutes. "Mr. Mackey, can I go back to class?"

"Sure, go right ahead."

I can feel their eyes burning into the back of my head. Once I leave the room, I feel relieved. That was close. Guess it's not only my family that knows something's going on. I just have to keep working on pretending everything's normal.

I get back to class and take my seat beside Clyde. "Everything cool?" he asks.

"Yeah," I respond stoically. "Mackey just wanted to see if I was behaving."

Clyde snorts at that. "Of course."

The rest of class goes slow, as does the remainder of the day. Before lunch is my free period and I leave class quick, only to be grabbed by Kenny.

"What?" I ask impatiently.

"The tapes," he reminds me quietly.

That catches my attention. "Did you get them?" I question almost pleadingly.

He smiles and nods. "Idiot had them in his locker and I know his combination, so I grabbed them. They're in my bag." He tightens his grip on his knapsack.

I let out a sigh of relief. "Let's go somewhere quiet and destroy them quickly," I murmur.

We run out the doors and behind the school. Kenny grabs a bat from his bag and then the tapes.

"Kenny?" I say his name.

He looks up from what he's doing. "Yeah?"

I continue to look at the ground and rub my arm self-consciously. "I know I don't say this often, but... thanks… for everything."

I hear the bat drop and footsteps coming towards me. I feel warm hands on my face as Kenny lifts my chin to meets his gaze. He gingerly places his lips onto my forehead. It feels... Nice. Comforting, almost.

"Anything for a friend," he says, smiling. He picks up the bat and hands it to me. "Would you like to do the honors?"

I slightly smile, grabbing the bat from his hand. I look down at the tapes, tightening my grip on my weapon. I bring the bat up. 'Soon, this will all be over.'

"You mother fucker!"

Or not.

Cartman runs towards me, pushing me onto the ground. "Where the fuck are they?!"

"What are you talking about, Fatass?" Kenny questions, playing dumb even though they're lying on the damn grass in front of us. He shifts, blocking his view of them.

"Shut-up, poor boy!" he growls. "No one's talking to your stupid ass." He turns his attention back to me, demanding, "Where are those tapes?!"

The look he's giving me causes something in me to snap. Before I know it, I'm back on my feet and I'm beating him with the bat in my hands, wailing on him like there's no tomorrow. I don't know how long. I don't care either. He deserves it. He deserves to hurt. "I'LL KILL YOU!" I scream. "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!" I continue screaming hate words and expletives.

"Craig!" Kenny shrieks, grabbing my shoulders and forcing me to stop.

By now, we've attracted an audience and Mr. Mackey is storming through the sea of students along with Principal Victoria.

"Fuck..." I whisper, still wielding my weapon.

"Craig," the principal says cautiously. "Put the bat down now."

I grit my teeth, letting it fall.

Kenny still has his hands on my shoulders. I shake him off and wordlessly follow the principal and guidance counselor back into the school. When I look back, Kenny is helping the fat ass get back to his feet. Why? He should kick him while he's down. Fucking trash. He's bloody and bruised, but he'll be fine. That's what happens when you have all that fat protecting you.

"Craig, if you can't give us a reason for such a violent display, we're going to have to take action," Mr. Mackey says warningly.

"I have no excuse," I murmur.

"You're expelled, Craig," the principal says without remorse. She looks almost... satisfied to expel me. Now I won't be around to cause any shit. "We'll be calling your mother to come pick you up."

"Whatever," I say carelessly. It was inevitable.

She hands me a garbage bag.

"Go and empty your locker," Principal Victoria says tersely, gritting her teeth.

I get up from the plastic chair and knock it to the ground in anger. Before leaving the room, I turn around and flip them both off, then slam the door. Students in the halls back away as my storm off towards my locker. They continue to stare until I can't take it anymore. "WHAT? What the fuck are you assholes staring at?"

They all avert their eyes. I continue my journey through the long hallway until I feel someone tug on my shirt. "Craig? What happened?"

I don't stop walking. "It's nothing Rubes. Just go back to lunch. I'll see you at home."

I can hear her little feet still following me. I finally make it to my locker and begin to empty it out. "Then why is everybody staring at you like you're some sort of criminal?"

"Ruby, I told you," I fume. "Nothing fucking happened!"

Everything goes silent, the only sounds that are heard are my things being thrown into the garbage bag. Ruby figures it out. "You were expelled..." she states quietly. "Craig, what did you do?"

I don't answer, continuing with the task at hand.

"Craig!" she shouts my name.

"Go away!" I shout back, towering over her in an attempt to intimidate her. I guess it works because she leaves a moment later, but not after shooting me a piteous look.

I continue cleaning out my locker until it's empty and when I turn around, Mr. Mackey is standing silently. He walks me back to Principal Victoria's office and we wait for my mom to arrive. It's quiet and it's awkward. I fidget with my hands as I shift uncomfortably in my seat. They're both watching me and they're being so fucking careful, almost as if they're worried I'm going to snap again. But I don't.

When my mom does arrive, she doesn't seem angry to have been called down in the middle of the day. "Craig," Mr. Mackey says my name. "Do you want to tell your mother why we're expelling you?"

"Fighting," I murmur flatly.

Still, she doesn't look angry. Instead, she just looks solemn. She doesn't even bother to ask why I was fighting. She simply looks them both in the eye and says, "I'm taking him home." Without waiting for a response, she puts a hand on my shoulder and ushers me out of the room and down the hall.

"Are you mad at me?" I ask, wondering if she's just hiding it for the sake of her image.

"No, sweetie," she says softly. "I'm not mad at you."

We leave the school and walk to her parked car. The ride is quiet. I fiddle with the radio in an attempt to break the silence.

When we finally arrive home, I open the door before mumbling, "I'll be in my room."

I hurry into the house and speed up the stairs before locking the door, confining myself to my room. I can feel myself starting to crack. Before I realize what's happening, I begin to destroy my room. Knocking over furniture, breaking pictures, and other fragile objects. In the process of this, I can hear my mom knocking on my door and calling my name, obviously worried. But I ignore her. I'm about to throw one more object until I actually see what it is. Stripe's cage. I drop it and fall to my knees. I stare at my shaky hands as angry tears roll down my face. I furiously try to wipe them away but they keep falling. Eventually I give up and my head falls into my hands.

"So close..." I sob. "I was so fucking close!" I lie on the carpet that is now covered in glass from my broken mirror and other broken objects. I stare at a particularly jagged piece of glass, as if it's calling me. Slowly, I grab it with my index finger and my thumb before bringing it close to my face. It's long and sharp. Temptations start to make their way into my mind.

As I lie on my side, I stare at the sharp shard. I tighten my grip and feel the edges cutting into my hand. I stifle another sob and jab the glass into my thigh. I can hardly feel it, so I do it again and again and again. I take a deep breath and sit up, staring down at my bloody hands and the wounds through my ripped up sweatpants. I reach a palm up and wipe my wet eyes. I let out a laugh before starting to cry again and I feel like I'm going fucking crazy.

Soon, I hear a click and my door opens. My mother is holding a hair pick and when she sees me her eyes widen. "C-Craig," she stutters my name in a weak tone.

"Mom..." I whimper, staring at her helplessly. "Mommy..." I let the shard of glass fall out of my hands and my eyes won't stop leaking.

"Oh, God," she says in a pained whisper, kneeling down. "What did you do, Craig? What did you do?" She examines the cuts as best as she can through my clothing and swallows audibly. "I... I need... I need to take you to the hospital. You'll need stitches."

I sob into my bloody hands as my mom pulls me towards her. She tightly holds on to me as I continue to cry into her chest. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry!"

"Shhh," she says, holding back tears. "It's okay, baby. I'm going to go get the first aid kit from the bathroom. I'll be right back. Do not move."

I nod my head lifelessly and she runs to the bathroom and grabs the first aid kit. She opens it as she walks into my room, taking out a large pad of gauze and some medical tape.

Trying to keep it together, she gently wraps the gauze around my leg and secures it with the tape. The blood seeps through quickly. I refuse to look at anything but my bloody leg.

"Sweetheart, lean on me. I'm going to help you up."

Without so much as a glance, I do as I'm told, clinging on to my mom's shoulders as she helps me get off the ground. Using her as support, she helps me down the stairs and into the car.

On our way to the hospital, I can hear her sniffling.

We arrive at Hell's Pass in less than a half hour. My mom parks the car in the parking lot and helps me inside the hospital. She helps me sit in a chair and tells me she'll be right back before going to the front desk.

I inhale a shallow breath and hold it before letting it out shakily.

There's a kid sitting across from me. Nothing about her looks amiss from where I'm sitting. I probably look like I just stepped out of Carrie. When I catch her staring at me I sneer and snap, "What?"

She stops staring after that.

I look down and see that the bandages are already soaked through. I let out a sigh. Mom is right. I'll probably need some stitches. At least it's not busy. I'll be done here quick and then back home.

Eventually my mom is back with a doctor and a wheelchair. I stare at it and scoff. "That's hardly necessary."

"Craig," the doctor says my name like he fuckin' knows me, "It's best to keep pressure off your leg right now. Sit in the chair and we'll wheel you in for a better look."

I roll my eyes as I'm helped into the chair and wheeled down the hall. For fuck's sake...

As I'm wheeled through the halls, people give me frowns while the nurses and orderlies hold sympathy. This is ridiculous.

When we finally make it to the room, the doctor helps me out of the chair and onto the bed.

"Alright, let's take a look here."

I cross my arms and stare at my leg as the bandages are removed.

I can see the doctor widen his eyes when he moves the ripped fabric of my pants away from the wound. He cuts the rest of my pant leg away to get a better look. "Yes, you're going to need stitches." He stands. "I'm just going to get the supplies. I'll be right back."

After a few minutes he returns with a small cart that holds needles and thread and shit. Oh joy.

My mom and I share a look. She looks like she's holding back tears. "Mom –" I start, but I'm cut off by her phone ringing.

She glances at it before apologizing to the doctor. "I have to take this. Will you be okay on your own, Craig?"

I nod as she leaves the room with the phone to her ear. "Thomas, I'm glad you called. We need to talk."

Oh shit. It's my dad. What's my mom going to say? Is she going to tell him what she saw? How's he going to react?

I'm brought out of my thoughts when the doctor says my name. "Craig," he says as he disinfects and stitches me up. "Now, I have to ask. How did you get these cuts?"

"I fell," I murmur. It doesn't hurt. I stare down as the needles weaves in and out of my skin.

"Fell on what?" he pries.

"Glass," I tell him flatly. "A mirror broke. I slipped."

"All right…" He doesn't believe me, that much is clear. I guess it's a pretty shitty lie. He finishes a moment later and smiles, "Done."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," he nods. He hands me a toilette and I wipe the blood off my face and hands.

"What now?" I ask.

"I'm going to talk to your mom," he explains, "and then we'll see."

Well, shit. Two things can happen. The first is my mom tells the doctor the truth, or she goes along with my lie. I'm really hoping for the latter.

The doctor leaves the room, walking over to my mother and disturbing her phone call with Dad. I can see them talking outside my room, but I can't hear what their saying. I try to read their lips but it's practically impossible. I give up when I feel my phone vibrate.

It's Kenny.

KENNY: Dude Karen told me that Ruby said you were expelled! Is that true?!

I contemplate whether I should answer the text. Well, what do I have to lose? No point avoiding the question, everyone's gonna find out eventually.

ME: Yup.

KENNY: Do you want me to tell them what happened? They're going to ask me sooner than later.

ME: It's not gonna change anything. I'm expelled and there's a slim chance they're ever going to let me come back.

KENNY: I can always try.

ME: Whatever.

KENNY: I still have the tapes. I put them back in my bag while you were beating up the fat ass.

ME: Just destroy them ASAP.

KENNY: I'll burn them in my backyard. We have a fire pit.

ME: Thanks.

The doctor walks back into the room with my mom a moment later. I pocket in my phone and wait expectantly. "Craig," Mom starts, "If you aren't willing to provide me with an excuse for your behavior... I want you to get an evaluation. You might resent me for it, but please…"

I snort back a laugh. "Like a psych evaluation?"

She nods and the doctor adds, "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

I roll my eyes at that. Mom must've told the doctor that my "fall" wasn't an accident. I hang my head and let out a sharp breath. Clenching my hands into fists, I say the same thing I told Mackey and fuckface Principal Victoria. "I have no excuse."

The doctor sighs. "Mrs. Tucker, did you discuss this with your husband?"

She nods. "He also wants Craig to be evaluated."

"Fucking perfect," I whisper venomously.

Mom walks over to my bedside. I refuse to look her in the eyes. "Sweetheart, I know you don't want to, but your father and I are doing this because we love you." She puts a hand on my shoulder, but I shake it off.

I lift my hand up and flip her the bird. "Fuck off."

The doctor look scandalized.

.

.

I am transferred to a different room in the psychiatric department. I'm not even allowed to walk here. A nurse rolls me through the hospital in a wheelchair, my mom following close behind. We arrive to a new room, the nurse saying the doctor should be here in a few minutes before leaving. More doctors. Goodie.

Soon, she walks into the room with a notepad and a pen. "Hi there, Craig," she says with a smile on her face. I simply just roll my eyes. She introduces herself, but I don't really pay attention. She asks my mom to leave the room for a few minutes and now it's just the two of us. She takes a seat on the chair in front of me and places her glasses on the bridge of her nose after grabbing her notepad and pen. "So, Craig, I'm just going to ask you a few questions. And then you're going to say some things and I'm going to say some things and then we'll be done. Sound good?"

Jesus Christ, I feel like I'm talking to an interventionist. I just nod my head.

"Now, tell me what you can about your accident," she starts.

"Well, it wasn't an accident," I murmur, "and that's why I'm here... but you already know that."

She smiles. "I needed to hear you say it."

I only scoff and she continues to ask me stupid questions.

"Do you often feel anger?"

"No."

"Do you feel resentful?"

"No."

"Do you feel..."

More and more questions come.

Do I feel this, do I feel that... No. And maybe the point is that I don't feel anything at all right now.

After about 45 minutes of pointless questions, she says one last thing. "Have you experienced anything traumatic in your past?"

I hesitate. No way in hell am I going to tell her what happened. "No," I say mechanically.

Her eyebrow rises. She looks back down at her notes and quickly writes something down before closing her notepad. "Okay, thank you Craig," she says standing. She puts her hand out in front of me, but I only stare at her with my arms crossed. Her hand slowly recoils back to her side and she walks out of the room.

My mom enters my room shortly after and sits beside me. "She's just going to get your discharge papers and then we can go home."

"Hm."

"How was it?"

All I do is shrug my shoulders, refusing to answer her question.

When she returns she says, "I would like to see you again, but I have a feeling you don't want that."

I force a smile and say, "I'm fine. Dunno what else to tell you. Too many doctors pretending to care and searching for things that aren't even there."

My mom nudges me and whispers, "Be polite."

My smile doesn't falter. "Like I said. I'm fine."

After signing some shit, we leave. The car ride home is silent and I can't wait to get home and out of these pants. They're stained and gross. Plus, one of my legs is exposed and I look ridiculous.

"Craig," Mom breaks the silence when we're half way home.

"What?" I ask.

"Talk to me when you're ready," she says almost pleadingly. "I know you say you're fine, but I know you're not."

"I'm –" I start, only to be cut off.

"You're not fine," she says pointedly. "I'm your mother! I know you, Craig. Something happened to you. Someone hurt you. I don't know who and I don't know how, but quit denying it."

"Whatever," I whisper.

"Promise me!" she pleads with me again.

"Fine!" I snap, staring at her instead of into empty space. "I promise! Okay?"

Everything goes silent and the drive home becomes uncomfortable. When reach home, I get out of the car and head straight for my room. After lazily and quickly cleaning the mess in my room, I pick up the shard of glass I had harmed myself with earlier. Playing with it in the light, I can still see the dried blood on the ends of it. I'm about to throw it out when I stop. Thinking about earlier, I begin to realize that the pain almost felt... good. Painful yes, but still good. Almost relieving.

I limp into the bathroom and clean it off with isopropyl alcohol before taking it back to my room and placing it in my drawer. No one needs to know. It'll just be another secret to keep.

I strip out of my clothes and stand in front of my broken mirror. The cracked reflection shows someone I never thought I would be. Someone who looks so fuckin' damaged.

"No." I whisper. "I'm fine. I'm okay."

I'm brought out of my state when I hear a knock on my door.

I sigh. "Mom, I just –"

But I'm cut off by a different voice. "It's not Mom. It's me."

Ruby. I really don't need this right now. "What do you want?" I ask, getting dressed into a change of fresh comfortable clothes.

"I just want to talk."

I throw my ruined, bloody pants in the trash bin before opening the door. "About?" I ask her once we're face to face.

She looks worried. "Mom says you had an accident..."

I let out a cold laugh. "People seriously need to stop calling it an accident! It wasn't an accident and everyone fucking knows it!"

She sighs. "I know... I just..."

"You just?" I pry once she trails off.

She sighs again, staring at me with a sad expression. Instead of saying anything else, she moves forward and wraps her arms around my waist, pushing her face into my chest. I can feel her shaking. I think she's crying. I close my eyes and put my hands on her shoulders. I won't push her away this time.


	6. Chapter 6

Kenny's POV

After getting Craig's texts, I decide to skip school for the rest of the day.

When everyone was distracted from the situation involving Cartman and Craig, I was able to return the tapes to their proper place. My backpack. And soon they're going to turn into a pile of ashes.

The bell finally rings and I'm the first one out of the classroom. Grabbing my stuff, I speed-walk towards the door and out of the school. On my way home, something occurs to me. What if these tapes are a way of finding that criminal? They could really help arrest him. Then again, the likelihood of actually identifying Craig's rapist is slim to none. I don't know what I'm going to do. Maybe I should make another copy? Just in case? Ugh. I don't know. Craig would skin me for even considering it.

Suddenly, I'm broken out of my thoughts when I hear a loud horn. A truck almost hits me, but I jump out of the way. Thank you, God, for letting me survive for more than a week without dying.

I get up from the ground, dusting the snow off my pants and keep walking towards my house, as if nothing happened. Same old, same old.

I walk up my driveway and into my house. Kevin greets me from the sofa and I wave at him. "Karen back yet?" I ask.

He shakes his head. I take a step closer and see that he's divvying up weed into little, plastic baggies. "How's business?" I ask.

"Booming," he murmurs. "Kids in this down don't got nothin' much to do 'cept smoke up."

"True," I admit. That's how it always goes. This is a small town. There's nothing to do. Everyone stops caring by the time they reach their teen years. Laws are ignored and the cops don't do much about it.

"What's wrong?" Kevin asks out of the blue.

"Nothing," I shake my head.

He snorts back a laugh. "Right."

He reads me. He always reads me. It's the McCormick way. It's no wonder the townsfolk think we're all so strange.

I go to my room, place my bag down and lie on my bed. I still have no idea on what to do with those tapes. Do I destroy them like Craig said to, or do I save them? Just in case?

Maybe I should ask Craig? Ha, no. I scoff to myself. Yeah, right. Like he's gonna want someone to keep those.

Finally, I make my decision. I'm going to destroy the original copies, but make a new one and save it on my computer with a password. That way, no one can have access to those videos.

This is gonna take a while though. I have no idea how to transfer VHS to a computer. Oh well, I better do some research.

.

.

After looking on the internet for hours, I finally figure out how to transfer the tapes. It's gonna take a really long time, but I don't care. Once I get the process to start, Karen knocks on my door.

"Kenny, dinner's ready. And for once it's not waffles or Poptarts!"

Seriously? Oh man, that sounds good. Well, anything's better than frozen waffles and boxed pastries.

Unfortunately, I can't leave my computer. I need to make sure this downloads and works on my computer, then I can leave my post to destroy the tapes.

My stomach doesn't agree with that plan though. The rumbling in my stomach is so loud, I could've sworn Karen heard it through the door.

"I can't come out for dinner, Kare. I've got a project that's due tomorrow."

Holy shit. When did I become so good at lying? Maybe Craig's rubbing off on me.

"I can bring it to your room!" Karen offers sweetly.

"Aww thanks Kare-Bear!" I exclaim happily.

So she brings me my food and gives me a kiss on the cheek before leaving me to do my work.

I eat my dinner and wait patiently for the files to transfer. I decide to savour my meal, since it's a rare occurrence that we eat real food. When I'm done eating, the files soon finish transferring. I smile to myself, somewhat proud of the job since I'm not very tech-savvy. I guess I should be more ashamed of myself, though. What I'm doing isn't quite right. I place a lock on the files and close my computer, grabbing the tapes. I shove them in my sweater pocket and return my plate to the kitchen before going into the backyard. I light a fire in the pit Kevin and his friends usually hang around and toss the tapes into the flames. Yes, a job well done. Craig's gonna fucking kill me if he ever finds out... but maybe he won't have to. I'll find out who did this. I'll figure out what to do about it. All he'll need to do is take care of himself.

I sit in front of the fire for a few minutes, watching the tapes melt. I stand close. It feels nice. It's warm. Alive. After a few more minutes, I force myself to step away. I move to the side of the house and grab the hose and an old bucket from under the porch, filling it. I douse the fire, killing it before returning inside empty handed.

When I walk inside, everyone's watching tv. I decide to join them, since it's also rare when our family doesn't fight. I sit beside Karen and my mom as we watch some crime show.

"Kenny, you smell like smoke and burning plastic," my mother says, her face scrunching up from the smell. "Were you near the fire pit out back?"

I nod my head and my father joins in the conversation. "What were you burning, son?"

"Just some stuff," I say vaguely, shrugging my shoulders. "Trust me, you don't wanna know."

My parents know that I'm a bit of a... sex addict, so when I say the words "stuff" and "you don't want to know" in the same sentence, they automatically think I'm doing something naughty. In a way, I kind of appreciate the privacy they give me.

By the time the show's over, it's already 11:30. Karen's sleeping against my shoulder and Kevin's on the verge of passing out.

I pick up Karen with ease. For a fourteen year old, she's pretty light. Kevin and I both say goodnight to our parents and we head down the hall.

After I put Karen to bed, I brush my teeth then head to my room. As soon as my head hits the pillow I can start to feel my eyelids drooping. Today was pretty eventful and surprisingly it didn't involve me dying.

I still can't believe Craig was expelled. Cartman has done way worse and only gets away with so little as a detention!

It's fucking unfair. But whatever. I will fix this. Kyle can lecture me all he wants about me not minding my own business, but damn it, I'm going to help Craig in any way that I can. That is a promise.

.

.

The weekend passes by quickly and soon enough it's once again Monday. In the morning, I decide to forego school. Kevin drives Karen and he drives Mom to the Olive Garden for work. My dad's home, but he won't bother me. I decide to crack open my laptop and give the video another look. It's hard to watch. When things get physical, it's even hard to stomach. Fortunately, the worst part wasn't captured on film. I pause it and stare at the frame, trying to narrow down the suspect.

Male, clearly. Overweight? Yes, but not nearly as fat as Cartman. He's wearing typical jeans and a farmer's shirt, but that outfit is incredibly typical around these parts. If only I knew what his voice sounded like, but I don't dare ask Craig. It's the mask that's throwing me off the most. I think Craig would hate me if he knew I was invading his privacy like this. I guess this is pretty shitty of me.

I bite my lip, pressing play and letting the recording continue. Soon, I hear the door open and shut downstairs and I assume Kevin is home. Like my dad, he won't bother me.

I pause the video again. I notice the gun he has. A pistol. Maybe I can find out if anyone had recently purchased a pistol and some ammo at Jimbo's Guns. But I highly doubt Jimbo would actually tell me without needing an explanation for my curiosity.

I play the video many more times, but still can't seem to find any clues. "Who the fuck are you?" I whisper.

I glance at my clock. It's 10:00. I've been looking at the same footage for 2 hours straight and it's gotten me nowhere. This is gonna be a lot harder than I thought. I lean in my chair and stretch my aching back. Just as I'm about to get some much needed breakfast, my phone goes off. It's Kyle. I decide to answer it. "Hello?"

"Dude! Where the hell are you?" Oh boy. He does not sound pleased.

"I'm at home, didn't feel like going to school today."

Kyle laughs a little. "You do realize we have to present our English assignment in two days right? And Garrison's only allowing us to do it in class?"

Fuck.

"I completely forgot about that." I say sheepishly.

Kyle sighs. "Kenny, you cannot keep skipping on school like this." Oh yay, here comes the lecture. "Without marks, you won't be able to go to college."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, a habit I developed from Stan. "Kyle, I know. But you know I'm too stupid to go to college. That's why I'm getting a job after high school."

"Bullshit!" Kyle yells. "You are smart Kenny, smart enough to become a freaking doctor! You're just too lazy to go to class and do your assignments!"

I huff with obvious irritation. "Look, I've got to go. I'm going through some shit right now and I really don't need this. I'll see you tomorrow."

I hang up my phone before Kyle can respond and throw it on my bed, groaning. What now? This is seriously going nowhere. I rub my temples and sigh as I debate my next move. I could watch this same fucking scene over and over again, but is it going to help? I don't know. I think I need to step away from it. I'll re-examine it again when I've got a different frame of mind.

I close the video and decide to do some research on the laws on sexual offence in the state of Colorado. Without definitive proof, the entire ordeal seems hopeless. I chew the inside of my mouth, trying to stifle some of the anger I'm feeling. Seeing the laws in action really makes you realize where the government's priority lies... and it's not with the safety of its people.

Soon, the anger begins to grow and I can no longer look at the webpage. I bookmark the page and close my computer.

"I need a smoke."

Putting on my parka, I go outside and decide to take a walk through town. As I continue to smoke my cancer stick, I pass by the convenience store. I can feel my fists clench. I still can't believe how it's only been a few days since I found Craig. So much has happened. Maybe I can find something in the alleyway. I highly doubt I'll find anything, but hey, what've I got to lose? I have no leads.

I round the corner and stand in the exact spot I found Craig. I can't get the image of him out of my head and I once again see him lying there, half conscious and half naked. I wish I could take a sponge and wash the memory away. I'm sure Craig wishes that, too. It's not fair. The shittiest things always happen to the people who least deserve it and the scum of the earth continues to be rewarded. The law of the universe.

"Nothing," I mumble to myself. Obviously there'd be nothing.

There are so many things that I could've done. There could've been more evidence. But I doubt Craig would've wanted to be in the hospital while a doctor checked him with a rape kit.

But I could've taken the fucking mask off of the rapist when he was unconscious! At least I would've known what he looked like!

I walk home, feeling worse. When I walk inside and flop on the couch, I hear my dad talking on the phone.

"So, Randy, are you coming to the bar tonight?" He's talking to Stan's dad.

I grab the remote, turn the TV on and begin to flip through channels.

But I suddenly stop when my dad says "Okay, so then it'll just be you, me, Thomas, Stephen and Skeeter. Yeah, it's been a while since he's been at the bar, wonder what he's been doing."

I roll my eyes. Drinks, drinks, drinks and more drinks. That's what my dad is all about. I listen to him yammer for a few seconds before turning up the volume. I settle for a dumb basketball game. Soon my dad gets off the phone and leaves. Minutes after he's gone, Kevin strolls through the door. "Hey," he says.

"Hey," I echo. He flops down next to me and we sit in silence for a few minutes. "Did you see Dad leave?" I ask out of the blue.

Kevin nods. "Gone to the pub."

"Mhm," I mumble. "Nothing new."

I ditch him and go to my room. I sit in my bed and sigh, feeling defeated. I'm at a dead end. I decide to text Craig, not because I want answers. I just need someone to talk to.

ME: Hey.

CRAIG: Hi.

ME: What's up?

CRAIG: Not much. You?

ME: Same, you wanna do something?

CRAIG: Aren't you at school?

ME: Nah. I skipped.

CRAIG: Fine. Meet me at my house.

ME: K see you soon!

I get off of my bed and grab my laptop. We can watch a movie or something.

I say that I'm going out and I'll be back whenever. "See yah!" Kevin hollers.

With my backpack tossed over my shoulder, I leave the house and enter the cool, mountain air. I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself as I exit the poor part of town. I start running, careful not to slip on ice. Soon, I'm on the main road and I walk past a familiar string of houses before hearing my name.

I pause in front of the Broflovski house and turn, spotting Kyle sitting on his front porch. "Hey," I wave.

"Where are you off to?" he asks.

"Craig's," I tell him. "You?"

"Stan's," he says. "You've been spending a lot of time with Craig lately..." he mentions. "Is he okay?"

I nod. "He's having some personal problems, but I'm trying to help him through them all."

Kyle smiles at that. "I'm glad. A guy like you can do a guy like him a lot of good."

I smile in return, though somewhat wryly. I know where Kyle is going with this. "Craig isn't into me like that."

"People's feelings can change," Kyle offers.

I shrug. "Either way, I'm doing this because I care about him. I don't expect anything in return."

"You're altruistic," he comments. "You've always been like that... but just be careful. You can't fix people. You can only help them help themselves. If Craig's not ready, you can't do anything."

"I know," I sigh. "Trust me, I know."

We continue to chat for a few minutes before parting ways. He heads to Stan's and I make my way to Craig's. I knock on the door and a minute later it opens - Craig is standing there with a somewhat weary smile on his face.

"Come in," he says, allowing me to step inside.

I'm hit with a wave of heat and I relish at the warm feeling. "I thought maybe we could watch a movie." I hold up my bag. "I have my laptop."

He nods his head and shows me to his room. On the way up the stairs, I notice he's rigid in his stride. "You okay?" I ask, concerned.

He looks over his shoulder and towards me. "Why?"

"Just wondering."

His head turns back as he continues to make his way up to the second floor. "Well, I'm fine. So you don't need to wonder anymore."

I want to question him a little more, but instead I stay silent. After entering his room, I flop onto his bed and sigh. "Soooooo. What do yah wanna watch?"

"Doesn't matter."

I move over a little so he can sit beside me. It's his bed after all. As my computer starts up, we decide to watch a horror movie. We both choose The Ring.

"Hey, I just have to go to the bathroom," I say, getting off of his bed. "I'll be right back."

Craig just simply nods and watches the computer screen.

Once I've finished relieving myself, I begin to wash my hands until I hear. "What the fuck!"

I rinse my hands quickly and make a mad-dash to Craig's room. He's staring at my computer screen in absolute horror.

I look over his shoulder and my face immediately reddens. I forgot to close all the porn tabs I left open.

"Holy shit, if you're gonna bring your computer over, make sure you delete all your history before someone sees!" Craig lectures, covering his eyes. "Especially if it's fucking anime girls getting fucked by an octopus!"

I grab my computer, close down the video and delete my history. When the deed is done, I self-consciously rub the back of my neck, smiling sheepishly. "Heh, sorry about that," I say.

"So am I," Craig scoffs.

Once that awkward fiasco is over, I sit back on his bed and we finally get the movie going.

"Never pegged you for a hentai fan," Craig says as an afterthought.

"We all have our flaws," I sigh forlornly. I wonder what kind of porn Craig watches… not that I'd ask. I doubt he'd tell me. He's pretty modest and private.

The film soon starts. I haven't seen The Ring in ages, but as far as horror goes, it's one of my favorites. I sit the laptop on a pillow on my knees and Craig shifts closer to me. Our shoulders are touching. I like having him close. I can feel his body heat. He's warm. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. Fuck, he's a pretty guy. I want to reach over and touch him, but I won't. He'd probably tell me to back the hell off and give me a weird look. I don't even know if Craig likes guys. If I could see his porn history, I'd know for sure.

Ugh. I keep mentally berating myself. I can't try to woo him like this. He's still in too much pain. It doesn't take a genius to see that.

.

.

After the movie is finished, we decide to go and get something to eat. As we walk around town, I ask "Where do you wanna go?"

Craig shrugs his shoulders. We continue to walk and soon, we pass the school. Even though he said it won't fix anything, I still feel like I should tell Principal Victoria that it wasn't Craig's fault for Eric's stupidity. Hell, I would've done more than just beat him with a bat if I was the one he was threatening.

"Craig?" I say his name and he looks my way. "Are you sure you don't want to tell Principal Victoria what really happened? They don't know you're side of the story."

He looks down. "That's because I didn't tell them what happened. I said I had no excuse."

I shake my head. "Craig, you did! Eric was blackmailing you. You could've told them he was threatening you."

"Maybe I just didn't want to, have you ever thought about that?"

He saunters off ahead of me. Now he's pissed. Great job Kenny. I guess I understand why he kept quiet. They'd have to investigate if he was honest. If they found out what Eric had on Craig, then the cops would have to get involved. Craig would hate that. He'll keep quiet no matter what.

I catch up with him and we walk in unison until we stop in front of Tweek Bros. Without a word, we both go inside. We spot the shaky blond in front of the cash register up front. When he sees us, he waves and immediately asks Craig how he's doing. "Fine," Craig answers, dull as ever. "I want a muffin."

"W-what kind?" Tweek shudders. "We have blueberry, poppyseed and bran."

"Poppyseed," Craig says. "With that... plain ginger tea."

Tweek nods, offering him a shaky smile. "And for you, Kenny?"

"I'll have a cappuccino and, um," I pause and stare at the glass pantry. "Are those raisins or chocolate chips?"

"Chocolate chips," Tweek answers with a laugh.

"Then I'll have a cookie," I add with a wink.

Tweek nods and I make idle chat as he gets out drinks and snacks. "Here you go," he says.

I thank him and we pay. Me and Craig then move to a table in the back corner of the cafe, hidden by a large potted plant. I watch as he takes a chuck off the top part off of his muffin and chews slowly, as if he's hyper-aware of his movements and self-conscious because of it. "So how's everything at home going?" I ask.

Craig swallows the muffin in his mouth and answers. "Fine. Mom's taking a leave of absence off work."

My brows furrow. "Oh, is everything okay?"

Craig nods. "She says she's been feeling like a neglectful parent. So she wanted to spend more time with Ruby and me."

"That's great, I'm glad she's spending more time with you guys."

"Hm. What about you? How are your parents?"

I shrug. "They don't get into any of the hard shit like when I was a kid. They just smoke and drink now."

"You're mom still working at the Olive Garden?"

"Yeah." I smile faintly. "She's actually working pretty hard. There's a position to be a waitress and she really wants to be promoted to get some more money."

"That would be nice," Craig comments.

I nod. "We need money. I'll probably get a job come summer since my dad doesn't do shit."

"That sucks," he offers.

I nod again. "I guess our dads are kind of opposites. Yours works too much and mine doesn't work enough."

Craig smiles slightly. "But my dad still finds time to meet yours at the bar."

I snicker. "Yeah..."

"Just no time for me," he adds.

"Sorry," I sympathize. He doesn't sound bitter, but I'm sure he probably is. I'd be bitter, too.

He smiles cynical, looking at his half-eaten muffin. "Don't worry about it. An apology isn't gonna change anything."

I don't know how to respond to that, so we eat in uncomfortable silence.

When we leave Tweek Bros., I suggest we go to Starks Pond. He doesn't object. We walk while I ramble about stupid stuff. I just want to make conversation so silence doesn't take over. As we make our way towards the pond, snow begins to slowly fall. Craig looks up at the sky and simply states, "I like the snow. It's cold, yet comforting."

"It's also boring," I snort.

Craig nods. "Just the way I like it."

When we arrive to Starks pond, it's starting to get dark. We sit on the bench, and stare out at the pond. I lean back, closing my eyes and putting my hands behind my head.

"So, did you get rid of the tapes?" Craig abruptly asks. He's probably been trying to ask that question for a while.

Opening my eyes, I look at him through my peripheral vision. "Yup. Burned them last night."

His eyes lower and focus on his gloved hands. "Thank you," he says quietly. "I know... I don't say this often but..." He face begins to turn a slight pink, but it could just be the cold. "But I... appreciate what you're doing."

I sit up and lean forward, putting my elbows on my knees and looking at Craig in the eyes. "Like I said yesterday," I start, smiling, "anything for a friend."

"The evidence is gone," he says offhandedly. "Too bad the memory wouldn't go with it."

"Yeah," I whisper, not really sure what else to offer. With time and with help, he might begin to heal... but I'm not sure how he's coping or if he's even coping. "Craig, don't be mad," I start, "but I really think you should see a doctor."

He snorts loudly before flat out refusing, "No."

"If you find a therapist who really cares, it helps," I tell him. "Or you don't even need to see a doctor. You know, Wendy does counselling. She's no therapist, but she is experienced. I've spoken to her about my problems a few times and she makes me feel better. Venting to someone who sincerely cares always feels good and if you don't want to talk to friends or family, Wendy is the best person to go to. She keeps secrets - even the really bad ones."

Craig gives me a dull stare. "I'm not talking to Wendy about my traumas. Shit."

"Why?" I ask somewhat desperately. "She makes you feel comfortable. It's like you're just talking to a friend. You feel at ease. She'll answer all your questions. She'll even tell you about her own experiences."

Craig wrinkles his nose, once again shutting the idea down. "No."

My blood begins to boil a little, but I don't lose my temper. That's the last thing I want to do. "Craig, look. I know it's your choice to speak with whomever you want, but if you keep bottling up everything, you're going to crack."

He shakes his head, disagreeing with me. "I won't."

"You've already admitted to me that you aren't okay," I push on. "So, why are you refusing to help yourself?"

"Shut-up, McCormick," Craig growls, placing his head into his hands. "I don't need help. Why do you keep pushing me?"

I get off the bench and kneel in front of Craig, placing my hands on his shoulders. "Okay, I'm sorry for ever pushing you to tell me something or to do something you aren't comfortable with. That isn't my right, it's yours and yours alone." I slowly pull him into a gentle hug and hold him close. He doesn't respond, but he doesn't object.

"Why are you doing all of this?" he mumbles into my parka. "Why didn't you just forget the incident and go back to your own damn life?"

"No can do," I say. "I care about you. I like you a lot."

When we part, he shoves me and I fall backwards onto the ground. Craig stands up and hovers over me before sitting on my abdomen. "You care?" he asks, spitting the last word out like it's poison on his tongue.

"I care," I say again in confirmation.

He laughs coldly. "You care," he repeats, "and you like me a lot?" His voice is laced in cynicism and he's giving me a half-smirk. He leans close so our faces are almost touching. "I know what you want," he whispers in my ear. "I'm not an idiot."

Before I can question him, his lips are on mine and his tongue is in my mouth and his palms are roaming. I'm shocked at first, but once it wears away I put my hands on his shoulders and push him away. "No," I say sternly. "It's not like that."

"Don't lie!" he nearly shouts. "I see the way you look at me, asshole! You just want to fuck me!"

"That's not true," I promise. Well, maybe I do want to fuck him but not like this. Never like this.

"It is true!" Craig stands up and quickly begins to run away. I begin to follow him and soon I'm able to grab him from behind, refusing to let him go. "Let me go, you fucking asshole!" he screams.

He tries to break free from my grasp but I keep a tight hold on him. His body goes limp and he falls into me, crying softly. I sink to the ground with him and we sit in the middle of the street. Turning him around so he faces me, I hold him tightly in my arms, rocking him back and forth. "Shhh... It's okay, I've got you," I whisper into his hair. He continues to sob softly into my chest, grabbing onto the material of my jacket with a vice-like grip. Not a lot of people are outside but the few who are stare at Craig and me as they walk past. I don't care though. I just care about making Craig feel better.

We don't move from our spot in the street for over ten minutes. Soon, sobs turn into small breaths as Craig begins to calm down. "I've already spoken to one," he admits softly.

I look down at his tear stained face and glassy blue eyes. "One what?" I ask curiously.

"A doctor," he whispers, briskly wiping his eyes. "And she did jack shit to help me."

I don't know if that's entirely true, considering Craig won't let anyone help him, but I just simply nod and listen as he continues to talk.

"Twice," he specifies. "First time was a long time ago," he continues. "I was a kid. My mother thought I was too dissociated. She wanted to see if I was normal. I've never... I've never really felt normal. I wanted to be, so I agreed to talk. I tried... but the idiot did shit-all and told my mother I was just spoiled. Maybe that's why my parents are so absent... like they're trying to undo a mistake they never even made."

"Not all doctors are like that," I offer. "Sometimes you need to try a few different ones until you find a good one."

"I don't want to waste my time," he says, sitting up. "Second time was recently. My mother made me see one. I agreed so she'd stop nagging me. So... a woman asked questions and I answered them. Yet again, she did shit-all."

"Or maybe you're just good at lying," I say before I can stop myself.

Craig gives me a look of disbelief. "Suck my dick, McCormick," he bites out. "God!"

"Sorry," I apologize sincerely.

He sneers at me. "Think before talking."

"Do you think you're sick?" I ask quietly.

"I don't know," he murmurs. "I don't know what I am... but I feel like I've never cared about anything this much. Maybe it's because I've never really been hurt before. I don't know."

I frown, wanting so fucking badly to offer him more than I can. "You should get an evaluation."

He stands up. "Fuck," he laughs callously. "You're too much, Kenny. Really."

He begins to walk away and I don't hesitate to follow. "How?" I ask.

He spins around and shoves me yet again. "You know what?" he snaps. "I fucking hate you!"

"No, you don't," I say.

"I HATE YOU!" he screams wildly.

"No, you don't," I say again.

He closes his eyes and lets out a breath. When he opens them, they're blank. "No," he murmurs flatly in agreement. "But if I did, you'd understand why."

"I'm tactless," I admit. "I know that. I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "Whatever. You apologize too much."

We walk back to his house and go back to his bedroom. I begin to pack up my laptop until I realize something. "Hey, how recent was it when you saw this second doctor? Why did you see her?"

Craig flatly asks, "Why do you want to know?"

"I'm just curious. You told me why you saw your first doctor, but not the second."

He looks at me through narrow eyes. "You don't have to tell me. I totally respect your decision if you don't want to say anything."

"Not like it's gonna make much of a difference if you know." He nears his bed, tiredly rubbing his face with his hands. He sighs shakily and admits, "I went to the hospital the day I was expelled."

My eyes widen. "Why?" I ask hesitantly.

With shaking hands, he unbuttons his jeans. Before I can say anything, he drops his pants. It's not long before I see more than 10 stitches on the front of his leg.

"Shit," I whisper.

"Mhm," he agrees, pulling his pants back up. "I had like... a freak out. I felt like I was going insane."

"Maybe you were having an episode," I suggest.

He rolls his eyes, sitting down on his mattress. "I'm not manic."

"Maybe you are," I argue. I wouldn't be surprised. "You know," I start again, "Sometimes doctors miss the signs. A person can be stuck in a depression for years and then when it's over they'll have a manic episode."

"I'm not bipolar, asshole," is all Craig says.

"All right," I relent. "But, y'know, it's nothing to be ashamed of." Sitting on his bed, I hesitate but eventually ask "H-how did it happen? What did you do?"

Craig looks down at his feet and smiles cynically. "Of course you would want to know."

I put my hands up in defense. "No, I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked. That was wrong."

"You're just going to try to find out anyway, so I'll save you the fucking trouble," he says bitterly. "After I had my freak out, I noticed that I had broken my glass mirror. One of the shards was right beside me so I picked it up and –"

"You cut yourself," I quietly finish.

"More like stab," he says casually. "But yeah, I did."

I frown at that. Pretty heavy shit. He better not make a habit of it. "Damn," is all I say.

"Yeah," he murmurs before echoing, "Damn."

It's a cryin' shame there isn't less of a stigma against people who need therapy. If there was, then maybe Craig would relent. I think he needs help. Maybe if he'd accept it, his pain would lessen. I wish he'd at least talk to Wendy, but I know he probably won't. He's too independent. I never really thought of it as a bad thing until now. Sometimes the hardest thing you can do is ask for help – especially for people like Craig.

"Anyway," I clap my hands together. "What do you want to do now?"

"I don't know. Watch another movie? We can go downstairs."

"Sure," I say and we go down to the living room where I plop onto the couch. "What movie do you wanna watch?"

"I don't care," he answers impatiently. "I'm going to get something to eat. Just pick something."


	7. Chapter 7

Craig's POV

I walk into the kitchen, grabbing a bag of popcorn and tossing it into the microwave. As the popcorn continues to cook, I lean against the kitchen counter and sigh, thinking about everything that happened today. I actually kissed Kenny, of all people. And I don't even like guys. Do I? I did it on my own free will. Do I like him that way? No. I don't. Fuck that. He's annoying as hell. I just did it to be a dick and prove a point.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts when the microwave beeps. As I open the door, the smell of that fake-ass salty butter begins to waft around the room, overwhelming my senses. I open the popcorn, pour it into a large bowl and walk back into the living room.

Kenny smiles at me, looking happy as ever. I want to slap the look off his face, but I won't. Instead, I sit down on the opposite end of the sofa so a cushion is separating us. I put the popcorn down on said cushion. "What's good?" I ask, nodding towards the television.

"Pulp Fiction is on," Kenny says. "I haven't seen it, but everyone says it's really good. Want to watch?"

"Sure, whatever," I murmur.

I begin to zone out when the movie starts, but Kenny seems to be thoroughly enjoying it. I feel like this would be a movie I'd like, but I can't seem to pay attention to anything. I'm strangely restless and fitful. I don't know how long I'm simply sitting here in thought, but I'm brought back into reality when Kenny says, "Oh, uh..."

I stare at the television as a man is being raped. "Oh," I echo Kenny's word.

Then the rapists are killed. For some reason, I find that incredibly satisfying to watch.

"Sorry," Kenny apologizes. "I didn't know... I didn't..." he trails off, tongue tied.

"It's fine," I insist with a snort. "Jesus Christ."

As the movie goes on, I can't seem to stop fidgeting. My mind's racing, replaying the events that took place today and I can't focus on the movie. Soon, I begin to feel sick. When it becomes too much, I excuse myself from the living room and sprint up the stairs and into my bathroom. Closing the door behind me, I slide to the floor and lift the toilet seat up before puke explodes out of me. I grip onto the porcelain seat as I continue to heave. Once I finish I flush the toilet and turn around to sit against the wall. I hold onto my chest. My heart's beating like I just ran a marathon and I'm struggling to breathe.

Soon, I hear a knock. It's probably that shit-stain trying to see if I'm okay. "What?" I ask in a raspy voice.

"Are you okay?" he pries.

Called it.

"Yeah, I just got nauseous," I tell him, standing and flushing the evidence away before opening the door to let him in. He watches me with a cautious eye as I turn the sink taps on and rinse out my mouth.

Annoying. Why is everyone so annoying?

"Did you just throw up?" he questions.

"Yeah, I did," I snap, turning the taps off with shaky hands. "Don't worry about it."

Kenny walks closer to me and places a hand on my shoulder. "Do you want me to leave so you can get some sleep?"

After this episode or anxiety attack or whatever this thing was, I'm feeling fucking exhausted. I look at him through the mirror and weakly say, "No offense, but that would be great."

He smiles slightly. "None taken."

I walk him to the door and wave him off before going back upstairs. I change out of my day clothes and get comfortable. My eyes hurt. My head hurts. My throat is sore. My mouth tastes like shit. I rinse my mouth out once more before retreating to my room and lying down. I feel like I could sleep forever.

Kenny's POV

On my way home, I see Stan and Kyle. God, they're so gay it's fuckin' adorable. "Hey, guys," I hold up a hand.

"Hey, Kenny!" Kyle greets.

"What's up?" Stan asks.

"Walking home from Craig's," I answer easily. "What are you guys doing?"

"Wasting time," Kyle says. "How's Craig doing with his expulsion?"

"He doesn't seem to care," I admit. "He's never been really into school. His grades are shit anyway."

"What exactly happened?" Stan asks. "I know Craig and Cartman hate each other but Craig's not the kind of guy who goes around and attacks people."

I can't say anything. If I say that Eric was blackmailing Craig, they're going to want to know why and sooner or later, I'll wind up telling the whole story. "I don't know."

Kyle scoffs. "Yes you do, you were fucking there!"

I roll my eyes. "Fine, I do know, but I can't tell you. Craig would kill me."

Stan and Kyle glance at one another, swapping unsure looks. "You've been doing a lot with Craig lately." Stan says, sounding suspicious. "Are you, I don't know... into him or something?"

I groan. "God, I told Kyle this earlier. I don't expect anything from Craig, I'm just helping him out with a personal issue because I care about him as a person."

"So... You are into him," Stan answers, reading between the lines of what I said.

"Fine, yes!" I admit, throwing my hands up. "Why does it even matter?"

"It just does," Kyle says. "Don't get sidetracked. Help him, but don't try to force anything."

"I'm not," I insist. "Besides, Craig knows how I feel. I don't think he cares, though. Which is fine."

"Not surprising," Stan snorts. "He's a dick when it comes to people's feelings."

"Watch it," I warn lightly.

Stan just smirks and Kyle adds, "Either way, be careful. People like Craig are self-destructive. He's bound to blow up eventually."

I wave a dismissive hand. "Whatever, I'll see you at school tomorrow." I quickly walk away from the two, shoving my hands into my pockets. I'm almost home until I get a text from Craig.

CRAIG: You forgot your laptop here.

Shit. I don't want to go all the way back to his house. It's late enough as it is. But I need it for school tomorrow. I text him back.

ME: Shit! And I need it for tomorrow! Do you think I could come to your house early tomorrow and get it?

CRAIG: I'll just meet you at the bus stop tomorrow.

ME: Thank you so much! I owe you big time!

CRAIG: No you don't. See you tomorrow.

At home, I'm alone. No surprise. I decide to head to sleep early since there's nothing better to do around here.

.

.

Come morning, I meet the guys at the bus stop. When I think Craig might not show up, I spot him walking on the opposite side of the road, messenger bag in hand. He looks both ways before crossing.

"You ain't allowed on school grounds," Eric reminds him.

Craig doesn't even spare him a glance. Instead he pulls my laptop out of his bag and hands it to me. "Here."

"Thanks," I smile, tucking it carefully in my back pack.

He simply nods and walks away, ignoring Eric's derogatory comments. Even when Craig is out of site he continues to rip on him. "Oh my God! Isn't he such a fag you guys! I mean –"

Before he can say anything more, I punch him in the gut, sending him to his knees. "Dude, shut the fuck up!" I say, immensely irritated.

Coughing, Eric looks up at me and growls, "Make me!"

Before I know it, I'm on top of Eric, hitting him. I continue to punch him until I'm quickly dragged off his body by Kyle. Stan stands in front of a screaming Eric, trying to block him from hitting me.

Kyle pulls me away from the fat ass and whispers. "Dude, you can't get angry like that. I know you care about Craig, but if you go off like that at school, you're gonna be in the same position as he is."

I try to defend myself. "Yeah, but –"

Kyle interrupts me. "Kenny, it's going to be like the whole breast cancer scenario all over again, but this time it'll be you fighting Eric, not Wendy." He pauses. "Do you even remember what happened to her after that fight? The principal threatened to expel her. She was suspended for five days, and this is Wendy we're talking about."

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Good thing we aren't on school grounds, then."

The bus soon pulls up and we all get on it. The drive to school seems longer than usual and when we get there, I immediately part from my friends and make my way straight to first period. The day has just begun, but I already can't wait for it to be over.

For once in my life, I sit in the front of the class. When Stan, Eric and Kyle stroll through the door, they all sit in the back. We all listen to the teacher drone on about things no one cares about until the bell rings. I'm the first one out the door. I might be acting like a dick, but I swear if I am near Eric I might not be able to resist the urge to smack him.

When gym comes along, I place my bag into a locker and close it. There's no point in locking it, because people don't think it's worth it to steal from the poorest kid in school. I quickly get changed into shorts and head for the gymnasium. Once I arrive, I realize I'm the first one there so I decide to lie down on the bench for a minute. I close my eyes and try clear my head. 'Just avoid Eric and you won't get yourself into trouble.' Soon everyone starts to walk in, socializing with one another.

"Hey Kenny?" I open my eyes and see Clyde standing over me. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

I sit up and he leads me out of the gym and into the change room. "What's up Clyde?" I ask, slightly confused.

"I know something's wrong with Craig," Clyde says in a soft yet serious voice. "I've also noticed you and Craig have been hanging out a lot more lately, so I just wondering if you knew what was going on."

"No clue, dude," I lie easily. "Why ask me? Go ask Craig."

"He doesn't talk to me..." Clyde murmurs.

"And what?" I start. "You think even if I knew something that I'd tell you his secrets?"

"You do know something," Clyde argues surely.

"Maybe I do," I vaguely relent, "but it's not my story to tell."

"I want to help him," he sighs. "He's my best friend."

"Some things are hard to get out," I tell him. "And Craig has always been big on secrets. Just be there and don't treat him any different. Don't tip toe around him. That'd just piss him off."

Clyde sighs again, getting whiny. "He's never going to tell me..."

"So, what?" I ask. "Maybe you don't need to know."

"Was it something to do with Cartman?"

"No," I say. "The fat ass just pissed him off. Work-related drama, you know how it goes."

"Is that why Craig is like, freaking out?" Clyde pries. I just shake my head and he frowns. "Y'know... don't tell him this, but sometimes I think there's something really wrong with him. It's like... he doesn't see some things the way normal people do."

I wrinkle my nose at that. "Well, what would you define as normal? Who knows, maybe we're the weird ones." I make my way towards the door and before I show myself out, I turn my head, looking at Clyde peripherally. "Like I said, whether he's fucked up or not, you just have to be there for him. Treat him normally and don't pussy-foot around him."

Clyde speaks up. "I don't want to possibly lose my best friend because of some secret." His voice cracks. "It makes me feel like he doesn't trust me."

All I can do to respond is nod and walk out the door with my head down.

.

.

Gym class goes by unceremoniously and then it's lunch period. I decide to escape through the back door and loiter on the stairway behind the school. I sit near the bottom and take off my book bag, digging around until I find a plastic baggy with my weed. I fill my pipe and take a few puffs.

Before I know it, Clyde is back and this time he's with Token, Tweek and Red. Lovely.

"Hey," he says.

They all take seats and I offer Tweek the pipe since the other three are straight. Tweek gladly takes it. He says it helps him calm down. Funny, I thought it would have made him worry more than he already does.

"Kenny," Red says, deciding to be the first to speak. "What's going on with Craig? We're his friends..."

"We're his friends," I repeat her. "So, what? That means you deserve to know all his business? It doesn't work that way, chickie. Go talk to Craig. Maybe he'll tell you about his expulsion or whatever it is you want to know about. Shit."

"No, that's not what I meant," Red says calmly. "We're his friends and we care about him. We're just concerned for his well-being."

Token, Tweek and Clyde all nod their agreement.

"So you want to know if I know anything." I state.

"We're aware that you know something, but we know that you're not going to tell us," Token says with a sigh. "So there's no point asking."

"B-but we wanted to -ah!- see if you c-could tell us how we should -gah!- approach Craig w-while he's like this," Tweek says, taking another puff from the pipe.

I stare at them, confused. "Wait, why me?"

"Because you're the only person Craig is actually talking to," Clyde points out. "I told you this earlier. He won't talk to any of us, as if he's trying to push everyone away."

"Except for you," Red adds.

I let out a long sigh. "Like I said, just be normal. Don't ask him if he's okay. Don't question him. That will only piss him off. You guys need to be patient and understanding and if or when he's ready, he'll tell you. But it has to all be on his own time. If you try and force it, then it'll be just a pointless confession that will likely make things worse." Things, meaning his coping mechanisms.

"It was something really bad, wasn't it?" Red asks quietly.

"Yeah," I say. "Shit always happens to people who don't deserve it. It's the cruel law of the universe."

Red sighs, but smiles slightly. "Thanks Kenny. Y'know, you would make a great guidance counselor or something."

I snort at that comment. I don't think they realize that I'm dirt fucking poor and I can't afford to go to university. Or better yet, the fact that I don't want to.

"Yeah!" Token agrees. "You're a decent person, people trust you and you give great advice."

"Really?"

In unison, they all say, "Yes!"

I smile a little at that. I'm not really used to compliments of this sort. "Thanks guys, but I think I'm just gonna focus on the present and not worry about my future until the time comes."

They all nod in understanding, say thank you one last time and walk away, leaving me with my bag and little pipe.

I take a few more puffs before putting it away. I stare at the ground, at the snow, off into the distance, up at the sky. I linger, wasting a little more time before returning inside.

Hopefully Craig's friends will leave things alone for a little while. He just needs more time.

I stroll to my next class. I'm a bit late, but the teacher doesn't call me out for it. I saunter in quietly and take the first empty seat I spy. Since I'm stoned, it's a bit hard to pay attention, but I still try. I don't make a habit of going to class high. That was Craig's thing. Freshmen year he greened out in class. I don't think he's too into weed anymore. Overdoing things always puts it into perspective.

Before I know it, class is over and my buzz has died down. Just in time for English. I have no idea how I'm going to finish my independent project by tomorrow, but I'll just wing it. Not looking for a perfect grade anyway. I take my seat and reach in my bag to grab my laptop as Garrison wearily says. "Alright everyone, this is your last class to finish your project, but since I know most of you dumbasses didn't even try to do the project the first day, I will let you take it home for the night to finish."

I, along with many other students, sigh with absolute relief.

"Remember, you need to write an essay about the comparisons between the book we read in class and a book of your choice. So if you haven't done that, I suggest you restart your project." He sits at his desk and puts his head down, obviously planning to take a nap. "Y'all got an hour."

Soon, nothing but the sound of laptops clicking, pencils scribbling on paper and Mr. Garrison's light snoring can be heard throughout the classroom. Surprisingly, this project is pretty simple for me and it isn't long 'til I have half my project done. I look at the clock to see how much time I have left. About ten minutes. I decide that I've deserved myself a break and leave class to use the bathroom, not even bothering to ask if I can be excused.


	8. Chapter 8

Eric's POV

I'm leaning in my chair with my feet up on my desk and my hands behind my head. There's really no point in trying to get my project done in class when I can just get my mom to do it at home, so I've got nothing to do but just relax. I think about all that's happened. Me finding those tapes of Craig, Craig getting expelled, it's all just so fucking perfect! But I'm still really pissed that I couldn't find the tapes. Craig must've taken them. Dumb fag. I'm drawn out of my thoughts when I hear footsteps. I glance over to see Kenny strolling out of the classroom carelessly. Hmph. That's another thing. Why was he always with Craig? Any time I see Kenny, Craig is right beside him. He was even there when Craig was beating me with that fucking bat! Poor-boy is a dumb ass traitor of a friend for not keeping his dog on a leash…

Suddenly, I realize something. Why the hell was Craig holding onto a bat, anyway? They were probably about to get rid of the evidence together!

"That mother fucker," I whisper, furiously. I decide to follow him out and down the hallway. "Ay," I call, causing him to slow down and turn around.

"What?" he asks, a slight sneer in place.

"What happened to the tapes I jacked?" I ask.

"I have no idea what you're going on about," he says with a careless sigh. He continues walking and I catch up with him, strolling next to him.

"Liar," I call him out. "You know exactly what I mean."

"Nope, sorry," he smiles at me, shrugging and continuing to deny it.

Just then, the bell rings. Letting out a frustrated growl, I stomp back to class to get my things. As I pack up my shit, an idea springs to mind. I'll just take his laptop until he gives me the tapes. I grab the laptop from his desk and walk out of the room, only to be stopped by the poor boy.

"Eric, what are you doing with my laptop?" he asks, sounding concerned.

I smile innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He glares at me. "Give it back. I need it."

I shrug my shoulders. "And I need those tapes but you won't give them to me. So you're not getting this back until I get what I want!"

Kenny is frowning now. "I don't have the damn tapes!" he says, sounding shrill.

"What?" I snort. "You're no longer denying their existence?"

He grits his teeth. "Give me my laptop, asshole."

"No."

"I NEED IT!" he shrieks frantically.

I feel my eyes narrow. "Why do you need it?" I wonder. "This sounds pretty important..." I read Kenny's expression and realize. "You're hiding something, aren't you?" His lips begin to move but nothing comes out. I look at the laptop and smile. "How very interesting." I turn around and begin to walk away, plans formulating in my mind.

Kenny tries to catch up to me but I turn around and push him hard. He falls onto his back, coughing as he tries to regain oxygen.

"You maybe fast, but you're a weakling, Kinny. So don't even try to stop me, because I always get my way."

He glares at me furiously before I turn around and walk towards the door, feeling accomplished.

.

.

At home, I go straight to my room and get his laptop out. I open it, almost immediately guessing his password. It's his birthday. How cliche. I roll my eyes, opening his file explorer. He has a fuck-load of folders. I scan the list –

1_English

2_Math

3_Science

4_ Social Studies

I can't help but scoff. How boring. It's somewhat surprising that he keeps his school things organized. What a Jew thing to do. I'd expect this from Kyle, but not Kenny.

5_Personal

Ha! This must be where things get interesting. I click on it and it brings me to a file full of new folders.

1_Anime

2_Manga

3_Movies

4_Music

5_Porn

6_Alaskdflksd

The last one yet again catches my attention. A keyboard smash. What could it be? I click it only to find that there's a password. Just like last time, I guess his birth date, but it doesn't work. "Damn," I mutter. I wonder what is inside. It's probably a folder full of his nudes or something. I don't exactly want to see his asshole staring at me like a third eye, but… Maybe it's something better than nudes.

I try to guess many other things; his stupid sister's name, his favourite NASCAR racer, but I keep coming up with diddly squat!

"Hm," I muse. "I'm gonna need some help." I grab my phone and call the one person I know will help me. "Butters, I need you to get your ass to my house. NOW!"

"Aww, s-sorry Eric," he stutters. "I can't. I was supposed to help my dad with his car and –"

"It's an emergency!" I growl. "Get over here now!"

"Ahhh! Okay, okay!" Soon the line goes dead.

I smugly smile to myself. "Dumbass." Butters is always convenient and it doesn't take much to convince him to do shit for me.

While I wait for him to come over I continue to brainstorm. It's probably something incredibly obscure or something incredibly obvious... but if what's inside is such a secret, it's probably not too obvious.

Soon, the doorbell rings.

Ding ding.

"MYEEEM!" I shout.

Silence.

"MYEEEEEEEM!" I shout again, louder this time.

And more silence.

Good for nothin'… Cussing out loud, I go downstairs and open the door, coming face to face with Butters. "Hey, B-Butts," I greet, letting him inside.

"What's the emergency Eric?!" he asks, following me upstairs, obviously panicked.

"What? Oh that. Yeah, I need you to hack into a computer for me," I say casually as we enter my room.

Butters stops and pales, looking at me with blatant hurt in his eyes. "You tricked me because… you needed me to hack into a computer?"

I roll my eyes. "No, it is an emergency." I lead him towards my desk and make him sit in the chair. I push the laptop towards him. "All I need you to do is crack this password."

He's just about to get to work but suddenly stops. "Wait a minute. Isn't this Kenny's laptop?"

I hesitate. "Uh, yeah! He told me I could borrow his laptop 'cause mine isn't working and forgot to give me the password for this file. My homework's in it."

Butters gives me a confused look. "But why hack into his computer when you can just ask him for the password?"

"He said he doesn't remember!" I snap. "You know how stupid he is, so just do it!"

Butters, being the gullible idiot he is, believes me and gets to work. He sits in front of the computer and begins typing. He does a bunch of stuff I don't really get and then says, "Here we go."

"Cool." I shove him out of the way and check out the contents of the folder. There's only one file inside - a video. I click on it and there is yet another password! Christ. Maybe it's a sex tape. Ew.

"It's password protected," Butters tells me.

"No shit," I mutter. "Fix it."

"Are you sure we're allowed to?" he asks nervously.

I roll my eyes. "Yes. Now do it."

With a few more clicks, we're in. The video starts to play. A twisted sense of pleasure fills me up when the realization hits me and I nearly cream my pants.

Butters raises an eyebrow. "This is just a security tape," he says. "Why'd you want that?"

"It's for a project, Butters!" I nearly shout, getting fed up with his idiocy. "You can go home now. Give your parents my regards."

Frowning, he leaves. When I'm once again alone, I press play. Heh. Kenny is such a dick. I can't believe he kept it. This is far better than a sex tape. Well, in a way... there isn't much of a difference.

Kenny's POV

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

I can't believe this. Eric has my laptop with the fucking video. I know he's gonna figure out a way to open it. He can't do it himself, but I know he's very capable of manipulating people who can. Ugh. Thinking about it makes me sick.

When I get up from my spot on the ground, I immediately call Craig.

After a few rings, he answers. "Hello?"

"Craig, I'm coming over. We need to talk."

"Can't we just talk over the phone?" he asks flatly. "Now's not really –"

"No, we need to talk about this face to face. It's important."

He heavily sighs before reluctantly agreeing.

"I'll be over in 10 minutes." I hang up the phone and immediately run out of the school and sprint to the Tucker house.

He lets me in and stares at me expectantly with crossed arms. "Well?"

I hesitate. "Uh, well, you see..." I trail off.

Should I really tell him? The obvious answer is YES. YES, I SHOULD FUCKING TELL HIM. But at the same time, maybe I can fix this on my own. He doesn't have to know about it. It would only cause him more stress. He already has enough shit on his mind. He doesn't need more. He doesn't need me making it all a million times worse. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?

"Tick tock, McCormick," he says impatiently, tapping his foot.

"Never mind," I say with a laugh. "Personal problem. It's okay now."

He rolls his eyes. "I don't believe you, but I also don't care, so whatever."

I rub the back of my neck and laugh sheepishly. "Heh, sorry about that. So, how was your day?"

Craig shrugs. "Fine."

We continue to talk for a few more minutes before I leave. As I walk home, I try to come up with a way to get my laptop back but come up with nothing. I sigh. I have no idea how I'm gonna do this, but dammit, I'm getting that fucking video and getting rid of it. I finally arrive home and toss my bag before flopping on the couch beside Karen.

She switches her gaze from the television to me. "What's wrong?"

I groan. "Nothing. I'm just dealing with some shit right now."

She turns the TV off and scoots closer. "Anything I can do to help?"

I smile and ruffle her hair. "No, it's okay. But thanks for the offer Kare."

She smiles a little, but her eyes still show concern.

If Eric does find the video files, what will he do with them? Blackmail? I'm too afraid to even contemplate it. He'd sadistic and awful and he won't hesitate to use what he has to make Craig's life hell. The more I think about it, the worse I feel.

"Kenny," Karen sighs. "I know something is wrong and I know no matter what you'll never tell me... but I hope whatever it is you sort it out before it gets out of hand."

"I'm trying," I murmur. But maybe that's a lie. I'm not doing all I can do. I don't know what my next move should be.

Feeling dejected I get up from the couch and walk to my room, dragging my feet. I lie on my bed and try to think. What am I going to do? For hours I try to think of a plan but can't think of anything. Until it hits me. I can sneak into Eric's house and steal it back when he's asleep or something. It's going to be difficult, but it's possible.

The following day, I skip school. I have more important things to do. I make my out of the poor part of town and onto the main road. Soon I'm at the Cartman residence. I knock on the door and Liane lets me in with smile. "Eric is at school," she informs me with a simper.

"I know," I tell her, acting as charming as I can. Liane fucking loves me. "I have a free period and I left my laptop here last time I came over, so I thought I'd just run upstairs and grab it."

She allows me to go upstairs and I start ransacking her son's room. I find my laptop under his bed and I put it under my arm pit. "Thanks, Liane!" I call as I leave.

"No problem, dear!"

I speed my way to school and enter the building within 10 minutes. After catching my breath, I walk through the deserted hallway and make my way into the bathroom. I open my laptop, only to have my heart drop into my stomach. It's gone. He was fucking able to get through all the security codes. I put my laptop back in my bag and shove my head into my hands. "Fuck."

Suddenly, the door opens, a startling me out of my pitiful state.

"Oh! Hey Kenny! I thought you weren't at school."

"Hi Butters," I say, sounding dull.

His eyebrows furrow as he walks over and sits beside me. "What's the matter?"

"Eric stole something from me," I mutter tersely, trying not to throw a fucking fit. I feel like I'm going insane with anger. "Fuck," I state. "Fuck!"

Butters looks taken aback. "Wh-what did he steal?"

"An important file," I tell him. He gets a strange look on his face and I feel my eyes narrow with suspicion. "Butters," I say his name. "Do you happen to know anything about this?"

He stares at me with a guilty expression. "N-now, don't be angry..." he pleads.

"Just fuckin' tell me," I say with a frustrated sigh.

He looks down at his hands as he plays with them. "W-well, Eric called me the other day saying he needed my help with a file for a project and h-he told me it was on your computer."

Oh fuck. I think I know where this is going. "Butters, what did you do exactly?"

He hesitates. "I... kinda hacked into your computer to get the file for Eric."

I hit my palm against my forehead. "Why would you do that?!" I yell, my voice echoing throughout the room. "Do you even know what you've just done?!"

He puts his hands up in defense. "I'm sorry Kenny! I had no idea it was so important to you. Eric said it was for his project and you let him save it to your computer but you forgot to give him the password."

"He lied!" I shout. "He used you, Butters! He's always using you! Why do you always fucking believe him?"

Butters starts stuttering, but nothing understandable leaves his mouth.

"You should start thinking for yourself instead of believing every damn lie that comes out of that fat fuck's mouth!" I continue. I want him to understand, but he never does. He looks like he might start crying, so I stop. I sigh and say, "Whatever. It's done. Just take this as a lesson."

He nods fearfully, staring at me with wide eyes. I stand up and help Butters up from the ground and we begin to make our way to the door.

"We better g-get going," he says, still sounding scared. "Mr. Garrison's gonna be awful sore if we don't get back to class to present our projects."

I suddenly stop. No…. He wouldn't! Eric is a fucking sadistic asshole, but wouldn't stoop to that level. What the fuck am I thinking?! Of course he would!

"Fuck." Suddenly I bolt out the door, almost knocking Butters to the ground.

"What's wrong?!" he says, calling after me.

"Eric going to show that tape to the entire class!" I shout. I start sprinting down the halls, leaving Butters in the washroom, confused.

Upon entering class, I make a huge scene. "Don't!" I exclaim warning, staring right at Eric.

"Whatever do you mean, Kinny?" he simpers the question.

"You know what I mean!" I accuse knowingly.

He simply smiles, raising his hand. "Can I present next? I have quite the treat."

Mr. Garrison sighs carelessly and waves Eric to the front of the class.

"Mr. Garrison, I want to go first!" I plead.

"Wait your damn turn, Kenny."

I grit my teeth. Everyone is staring at me. Kyle mouths, "What the fuck are you doing?"

I just shake my head.

Damn it. What now?

"Thank you, Mr. Garrison," Eric gushes. "Now, before I present my project, I have a video to share that will definitely have you on the edge of your seat." He smiles at me smugly as he turns the TV.

My heart begins to race and begin to feel like I'm going to fucking cry.

"Now this video heaaah is supposed to show the difference between being dominant and submissive in relationships."

"You sick fuck," I whisper, clenching my fists.

"Also, one person that absolutely everyone knows stars in this video. And I'm definitely sure it will change your opinion about that certain individual."

It's over. Everyone is going to see Craig being molested and it's all my fault.

"Cartman, you're being rude!" Wendy growls.

"Shut up, dyke," he responds easily.

"Language," Mr. Garrison warns dully, not sounding like he cares all that much.

"I'm sorry," he simpers as he puts his USB stick into the computer.

The screen appears on the overhead and Eric clicks the video file. I feel myself getting clammy as it starts to play. I bury my face into my hands and prepare myself for the worst. Everyone gasps.

Shocked as to hear sound coming from the video, my head shoots up. Everyone looks horrified as they watch a video of Eric... singing and dancing to a Britney Spears song... in drag. Confused as to why everyone looks scared shitless, he turns around. His face pales and his mouth drops. I can't help but laugh quietly at his reaction.

"OH, BABEH!"

Thank God. I guess what goes around really does come around. People get what they deserve.

After the initial shock wears off, Eric shuts the screen.

Mr. Garrison is rubbing his temples. "Is this what you wanted so desperately to show us, Eric?"

Everyone looks confused and stunned.

"Yeah, man," I say, chortling. "What the hell was that all about? What were you trying to tell us that you couldn't put into words? Are you showing us your submissive side, Eric? It's sweet you trust us all this much."

"Are you gay?" Stan asks. "It's okay if you are, dude. No one gives a fuck."

"It wasn't... I…" Eric pauses, trying to stutter out an excuse.

I stand and give him a condescending pat on the shoulder. "If you say so."

Eric starts freaking out, screaming curses and saying how God has once again fucked him. It's kind of funny.

While Eric continues to make a scene, I sneak out of the classroom with my laptop and Eric's USB key before discreetly close the door. I escape into the washroom, plug the USB into the correct port and go through the files. I can't believe Eric was too stupid to actually play the correct video. What goes around comes around, I guess!

Soon, I find the security footage, drag it into its correct file on my computer, eject the USB and slam my computer shut, sighing with absolute relief. I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. But there's one thing I have to do. Craig has to know what happened. It wouldn't be fair to him if I kept it a secret.

I shove my things into my backpack and swing it over my shoulder before exiting the school. I owe Craig honesty. He deserves to know I was a complete shit-head and he deserves to know that because of my own stupidity Eric almost revealed a secret.

It doesn't take me long to walk to Craig's house and instead of knocking, I walk right in and call, "Craig?"

Instead, his mom shows up. Right. She's taking a leave off work. "Oh, hi," I smile sheepishly.

"Hi, Kenny," she greets. "What are you doing here?"

"I have a free period," I lie. "I came to see Craig."

"He's in his room," she says, nodding towards the stairway.

I thank her and make my way upstairs, opening his door. "Hey," I greet, closing it behind me.

"Hey," he murmurs. He's reading a book. "What's that?" I ask.

"Wuthering Heights," he says, dog-earing the page and setting it on his night stand. "What do you want?"

"I want to tell you something that might make you hate me," I start, "but you need to hear it."

He's frowning, per usual, but it's more pronounced this time. "What?" he asks slowly. "Out with it."

"When I destroyed the tapes... I made a copy," I confess, "and Eric found that copy and took it."

Craig's eyes glaze over. "What?" he whispers.

"He tried to show it to the class," I continue, reading Craig's reaction. "He accidentally showed them the wrong video – one of himself in drag."

Craig remains tight-jawed, staring past me.

I take my backpack off my shoulders and dig out the USB stick. "It's here," I say. "The last remaining copy of it."

Craig lets out a long sigh, rubbing his hands up and down his weary face. "I kind of hate you," he says after what feels like hours.

"I know," I say quietly. "And you have every right to."

I hold it out in front of him and watch as his shaky hand reaches for it. Once he has it in his palm, he grips it tightly. Getting out of bed, Craig walks out of his room. I follow him, curious and a little concerned as to how he's going to destroy it. I soon find him in his garage with a hammer and the USB drive in front of him. I watch him from the door. His face shows determination and his knuckles are white from his grip on the tool. He brings the hammer down full force onto the small object. It shatters. He continues to hit it, grunting with each swing and soon, the thing is completely destroyed. The hammer then drops to the ground and Craig sinks onto his knees, letting out a relieved breath.

I slowly kneel and put my hand on his shoulder. He looks at me with glassy eyes and whispers, "Now the evidence is really gone…"

"Yeah," I say softly. And I guess this is for the best. It's not about what I think it best. It's about what Craig wants. It's about what he thinks is best for himself. The end. I need to stop making everything my business. It's one of my worst habits and I really need to chill out. I guess this has been a particularly nasty lesson. I almost fucked up beyond repair.

After a minute Craig shoves me away and stands. "I'm still mad at you," he says.

I follow him to my feet and hold up my hands innocently. "I know. I deserve that."

"Can I hit you?" he asks.

I'm somewhat taken aback, but I nod nonetheless. He raises his palm and I close my eyes, accepting punishment. A split second later, I feel his hand smack across my face like a whip. I stumble backwards and cuss. "Shit," I whisper, rubbing my cheek. "That really hurt."

"That was the point," Craig says, clenching his shaking fists and staring at me with blatant anger. "Because when you told me that you made a fucking copy of that video, it was just like a slap to the face… No, worse."

"I didn't think this would happen," I say guiltily. "I was only trying to help you."

Craig tosses his head back and laughs loudly and bitterly. "How the fuck was an extra copy of the video of me being groped going to help me?!" he screams in my face.

"I was trying to find out who did it," I murmur. It sounds stupid when I say it. I should've known something really bad was going to happen.

He laughs again and it's just as bitter. "Maybe I don't want to find out!" he exclaims. "Ever think about that?"

"Why?" I ask, not understanding why he wouldn't want to know.

He just shakes his head, not bothering to answer me. "You should go," he murmurs. "I need to cool down."

I nod. "All right... I'm sorry." I apologize one last time before leaving.

.

.

It's Thursday. The weekend is almost here. My project presentation is tomorrow and I'm still not finished. I'm fucked. I'll need to throw something together really quick. I'll be happy with a D.


	9. Chapter 9

Craig's POV

After Kenny leaves, I take a few deep breaths and start to pick up the pieces of the broken USB. Once I throw them away, I leave the garage and go upstairs to the bathroom. Turning the taps on, I strip from my clothes and get into the shower. After cleaning myself up, I just continue to stand under the cold running water. It cools me down as it falls onto my achy body.

Once I feel like I've wasted enough time, I turn the taps off and step out of the tub. Grabbing the towel on the rack, I dry my hair and wrap it around my body before picking up my dirty clothes and walking back to my room. I toss my clothes into the hamper after closing the door and remove the towel. I get into comfortable pajama pants and a T-Shirt before falling into bed.

.

.

The following day, my Mom wakes me. "Good morning," she says.

"Good morning," I echo, sitting up. "What's wrong?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing, I've just been thinking about something."

"What?" I ask.

"You know how I have a backup degree in teaching?" she reminds me. "How would you like it if I home schooled you? That way you could still have your high school education on your resume when it comes to getting a job. I doubt you want to be a cashier in a corner store forever."

I wrinkle my nose. "That'd be fine, I guess."

She smiles, patting my leg. "All right, up and dressed."

I get out of bed when she leaves the room, stretching my limbs. When I make it downstairs and into the kitchen, there's already a textbook on the table, along with lined paper, pens and pencils. Jeez. I guess she wants to start ASAP.

"Before we get into it, I made you some breakfast," she says, holding a plate of eggs, bacon and toast.

"Thanks." I respond. She hands it to me and goes to get her own food. I sit at the table and begin to pick away at the good in front of me. For some reason I just haven't been that hungry. When my mom sits at the table we begin to eat in a comfortable silence.

After a few minutes she asks, "Daddy is having some friends over tonight. Will you be okay with that?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" I wonder.

"It's been quiet around here for the past few weeks," she explains. "If you want it to stay quiet, your Daddy can go out instead of having people in."

I can't help but roll my eyes. "It's fine, Mom. I don't mind if people are here."

"Are you sure?" she urges.

"Yes," I say firmly and pointedly. "Daddy can have whoever he wants over."

She smiles faintly. "Okay then."

.

.

After 4 hours of doing work, Mom lets me take a break for lunch. I'm sitting in the living room, playing on my phone when I get a text from Kenny.

KENNY: Hey.

I decide to ignore it. I'm still pissed about what happened yesterday so he's gonna have to get used to the silent treatment.

When my break is over I get back to work. My mom and I make a lot a progress. She's a way better teacher than the ones at the school, if you even classify those people as teachers. I've learned more in one day at home than I would have in a week if I was still at school.

Later on, after I'm finished studying, I decide to call my boss and tell him I am okay to go back to work. He puts me on the schedule for Saturday's morning shift. Thank fuck it's not the night shift. I don't think I'll ever be okay with night shifts as long as I live.

"I'm gonna start working again this weekend," I tell my mom.

"That's good," she says with a smile.

I really don't want to, but I can't put it off forever. Part of me never wants to work again, but that's a stupid wish. Why put off the inevitable?

When I look at the clock on the stove, it's already 4:00. I decide to go upstairs and get dressed in something that isn't pajamas. That doesn't mean it's going to be anything fancy. After getting changed into a pair of sweats and putting on a baggy sweater, I look at myself in the cracked mirror. Man, I really need to get that fixed. It keeps reminding me of... my episode. I shake the memory out of my head and go back downstairs only to see Ruby putting her jacket away.

"Hey," she says lightly. "How was your day?"

"Meh," I respond, shrugging. "How was yours?"

"Meh," she echoes, slightly smiling after.

"Karen punched a guy in the face," she adds as an afterthought. "It was hilarious."

I snort at that. "I bet Kenny will like hearing about that..."

"Yeah," Ruby agrees with a laugh. "He'll be relieved knowing that he no longer needs to protect her... though he kind of lives for that kind of shit."

"What kind of shit?"

"Protecting people," she reiterates. "He has a big hero complex."

"Oh," I murmur. I think back to the time in grade four where he actually dressed up as a superhero. I was really shocked when he was actually Mysterion. "Yeah, a huge hero complex," I mumble to myself.

"What?" Ruby asks.

"Nothing." I'm about to go use the bathroom when I stop and turn back to my sister. "By the way, we're having company."

"Who?"

"Dad's drinking buddies," I growl, going up the stairs and into the bathroom. I can hear her groan loudly, followed by many curse words and my mom telling her to watch her language.

I take a piss and stare at myself in the mirror as I wash my hands. I have dark circles under my eyes even though I've been sleeping a lot. Maybe it's just the stress. Ha. Probably. I feel like tired is slowly becoming a part of my personality.

When I'm out, Mom hollers and says we're having soup for dinner. Ruby complains immediately. As always. She finds something to complain about no matter what. "Again?" she moans. "Why?"

"Because it's easy to make," I hear Mom admit carelessly.

"Uuuuugh!"

I roll my eyes before going downstairs to see if Mom needs help with anything. "Actually, I do need some help," she says, putting ingredients into a pot. "Could you and Ruby take anything that might break or shatter and put them in either the basement or my room?"

I want to say that nothing is going to break, but knowing my dad and his friends you just never know what could happen. I nod and tell Ruby to help me with the task at hand. As we carry a giant vase upstairs to our mother's room, Ruby whispers, "This is pathetic. Why does Mom have to hide things of value when Dad and his friends show up?"

"Don't complain Ruby," I say, sounding dull.

"I'm just saying if Dad controlled everyone and how much they drank, there would be no risk of anything breaking!"

"Dad doesn't care," I point out flatly. "He drinks as much as the rest of them and when he drinks he stops caring." It's bitter, but it's true. I'm not saying it to sound sour. It's just a fact. It doesn't mean I love my father any less. It doesn't mean he doesn't care about us. In his own way, he does. He's just... stifled. I guess he's like me, so I can't really complain or talk badly about him.

"Hmph," Ruby mutters.

We clear the living room of the rest of the breakables and that's that. We quickly eat dinner and clear the kitchen so there's no mess when Dad gets here.

"Honey, I'm HOOOOOOME!"

Speaking of which. Along with my father, Randy, Stuart and Skeeter – Red's dad – stumble into the house. They're not too intoxicated. Yet.

"Hi there, dear," Mom says, walking up to my father and pecking him on the cheek.

"Sweetheart, yah think you can get us some beer?"

She nods and turns around to get a case of beer. As she makes her way to the kitchen, I can see Skeeter looking at my mom's ass! I clench my fists and decide to bring the beer out myself.

I walk into the kitchen and say softly, "Here, I'll take this." She thanks me, gives me a kiss on the forehead and gets out some snacks for the drunken idiots in the living room.

I suppress a grimace. It's not even six yet. Dad must've went straight to the bar when he got off work. Liquor pigs. All of them, I swear.

They're watching some sports game and cheering loudly. I set the beer on the coffee table in the center of the room and don't hesitate to go back into the kitchen. There is junk food on the counter and I take that out, too. I lean over and set the chips and other shit next to the beer. I swear, they're all too drunk to even notice me here. I don't know how they're paying attention to the damn sports game.

For a moment, I just stare at the television screen. When I begin to zone out, I feel someone smack my backside. I immediately go rigid, slowly turning around and giving Skeeter an incredulous look. "Out of the way, Kiddo," he says. "You're blocking the TV."

I just stare, unable to force myself to move. I stare at him with blatant disgust, though I'm not sure if it shows on my face. Probably not. I probably just look scared. Like a child.

Without a word, I turn to leave the room only to see Ruby standing in the doorway with wide eyes. "Craig," she nearly chokes. "He just..."

"Shut up," I cut her off pleadingly as I walk passed her. I lean against the wall and I listen to my father chattering. I hear Skeeter laugh. That laugh... something about it sends chills up and down my spine. Same with the perverted look he had in his eyes. It makes me want to shudder. Too many perverts running around this town, I swear.

"Craig?" Ruby says my name again, probably wanting to make sure I haven't gone catatonic.

"Shut up," I hiss again before warningly adding, "Don't fucking tell anyone that just happened."

"I won't," she whispers weakly.

.

.

Soon, night falls and Dad and his friends have all passed out either on the floor or the couch. I watch from the stairs as my mom places pillows under everyone's heads and blankets over top of them. Why does she even bother? If I were in her position I would just leave them. Maybe leave them outside if I wanted to be a dick.

"Mom?" I call out quietly. "Do you need any help cleaning up?"

She shakes her head. "No, just go to sleep sweetheart, it's late."

"All right, goodnight."

I enter my room and flop into bed, glancing at my clock. It's only 11:00. It feels so much later than that, I'm fucking exhausted. Soon the red numbers of my alarm clock begin to blur and within minutes I fall asleep.

.

.

Come morning, I wake up and shower and put on some clothes before leaving the house without a word. I walk to the corner store on the outskirts of town and open the door. "Hey," I call.

"Craig," my boss greets. "Good to have you back. I hope there won't be any repeats of what happened last time."

"Me neither," I murmur.

"So, you're all right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I insist.

"Okay, just let me know if you're feeling sick and take a small break." I nod and get to my station behind the register. Before my boss goes to the back room, he asks. "Where's your name tag?"

I look down at my shirt. The last time I saw it was... The night of the incident. Shit.

"I think I left it at home." I answer.

My boss sighs but says. "That's okay. I can get you an extra one in the back."

As he leaves to get my name tag, the bell on the door rings. It's just Randy, looking like he's sporting quite the hangover. When he spots me he says, "Hey there, Craig."

"Hi," I greet flatly. "Hung over?"

"Ah, yeah, well... y'know how it goes," he replies, digging out his wallet. He pays for some car oil and then leaves. Once he's gone, my boss returns with my name tag.

"Here," he says. I murmur a thanks and then clip it on my shirt.

About an hour into my shift, I'm counting all the lottery tickets and Bingo cards on the counter when the door opens again.

"Hey, Craig."

My eyes narrow at the sound of his voice. "McCormick," I spit out.

An uncomfortable silence fills the air, until Kenny breaks it. "Look, I just wanted to say I'm really sorry and I feel really guilty about what happened with the video."

"Whatever," I say, cynically.

Kenny just sighs and walks away. He's just about to leave until he turns and says, "I know you're still mad, and it was a stupid thing for me to keep a copy of the tape. But I did it because I thought I was helping you." Before he leaves, I hear him say one last thing. "I really care about you."

I'm still too mad and my pride won't allow me to call him back. Ha. Pride. It's funny thinking I have any of that left after all that's happened.

"What was that all about?" my boss pries.

"Nothing," I insist. "Some fucker from school tried to blackmail me with some tapes."

"Kids are shit."

"Yeah," I can't help but agree. "I got expelled for beating him up."

"Well, good for you."

I snort back a laugh. "Yeah..."

"But speaking of tapes," he starts. "We're missing some security footage."

"From when?" I ask nonchalantly.

"Come to think of it, I believe Eric was working," he adds as an afterthought.

"Then ask him," I say. "He probably fucked something up and overwrote the footage. He's stupid."

My boss just nods his head in agreement. "I won't worry about it. It's just a few hours missing, after all."

And thank God he doesn't give a shit.

.

.

After 3 more hours of standing behind a counter doing absolutely nothing, I leave the store, looking down at my feet. On the way home, I continue to stare at the ground until I bump into someone. "Hey, watch wear you're going, kiddo!"

I cringe at the voice and look up, only to stare into the eyes of Skeeter. Something about those eyes really creeps me out. "Sorry," I mumble, trying to push past him.

Without warning he grabs my arm. "What's the rush? Got somewhere to be?" he laughs.

I nod my head quickly. "Home. Mom's waiting for me."

Skeeter chuckles again and let's go of my arm before ruffling my hair. "Alright then. I'll see you tonight!"

I feel the color in my face drain. "T-tonight?"

"Yup!" he says, starting to walk away. "There's another football game on tonight, so your dad invited me over. Don't worry, we won't be piss-ass drunk like last time. See yah!"

"Ugh," I grimace when he's out of ear-shot. What a creep. I hurry home and loudly announce my arrival before going to my room. I remove my day clothes. I'm a little sweaty from the run back. I throw on a t-shirt and pajamas - comfy clothes - before going downstairs. In the kitchen, both of my parents are seated. My dad is eating leftovers while chatting to my mom.

"Hey, son," he greets.

"Hi, Dad," I respond. "Mom."

"How was your day, sweetie?" Mom asks.

"Boring," I tell her. "So, Skeeter is coming over again tonight?"

"Yep, another big game is on," Dad says.

Oh, joy.

"And about last night.," my dad starts. "I'm sorry for being obnoxious. We won't be drinking too much tonight."

I nod my head and turn to get some water. "How about you won't drink at all?" I mumble to myself as an afterthought. With my glass in hand, leave the kitchen and turn the TV on. The screen soon shows two old people farting and laughing. Heh. Terrance and Phillip. I remember this show. Reminds me of my childhood.

Now it just seems gross and immature. Times sure change. After a few minutes, I change the channel. I watch the news for a few minutes before changing the channel yet again. Local news is always extremely dull. I stop on a music station and watch the countdown. I feel jittery and sick to my stomach and I don't know why. I feel like I stood up to fast and all the blood rushed to my head. I lean back and rub my temples, waiting for the feeling to subside but it doesn't.

I decide to lie down for a bit and try to relax, but I don't feel any better. My mom walks in and notices me curled up on the couch and rushes to my side. "Craig, are you okay?"

I nod, trying to mask the fact that I feel like shit. She feels my forehead with the back of her hand. "You feel a little warm, do you need anything? Maybe some more water?"

I sit up slowly and shakily stand up. "Mom, I'm okay. I think I'm just going to go take a nap."

Before I allow her to say anything I'm already making my way up the stairs and to my room to go lie down again.

I don't know how long I'm lying here in bed, but I hear sounds coming from downstairs. I can only assume Skeeter is already here and the game is starting. Gross. I get up and lock my door for good measure before crawling back into bed. I want to disconnect myself from what's going on in this house... and what's going on in the world. Ha. If only it was that easy, but nothing is.

I close my eyes until I eventually fall into a dreamless sleep.

.

.

I wake up a few hours later to the sound of whooping and hollering. How nice. I roll my eyes and decide to get something to eat, since the likelihood of me getting back to sleep with all the noise downstairs is less than zero percent. I stretch a little and slowly unlock the door before going to the main floor.

"Hey, Son!" my father says, obviously tipsy. "Come watch the game with us!"

Hesitantly, I move forward and sit on the couch in between Dad and Skeeter. I can't help but feel very uncomfortable and slightly claustrophobic.

God damn. At least my dad is trying to spend time with me. I keep my eyes ahead and don't partake in the boisterous cheering. I can't help but grit my teeth every time a shot is scored and either Skeeter or my dad screams in my fucking ear. At least I don't feel sick anymore. I try to relax, but sports were never my thing. I have a hard time following. Ruby is the athletic one in this family. Speaking of Ruby, she walks in and hangs up her coat. When she turns to see Skeeter, I can see her tense up. Her hands clench into fists and her jaw tightens. Obviously, she is not happy.

"Hey Rubes!" Skeeter slurs. "Come watch with us!"

Ruby glances at me with concern. I shake my head no and mouth, "You don't have to. Go upstairs." I can tell she doesn't want to leave me alone with our father and his idiot friend, but she reluctantly wanders off.

My dad gets pretty wasted and Skeeter is only one drink behind. Near the end of the game, my mom comes in and starts cleaning up empty beer bottles off the counter. "Can I get anyone anything else?" she asks in a high pitched simper. She's probably trying to suppress her frustration. I don't fuckin' blame her. If my husband was bringing drunks home every night I'd get pissed, too.

"Nah, it's all good, toots," Skeeter says drunkly. Then, out of nowhere, he smacks my mom's ass when she isn't looking! And the worst part: Dad only laughs! I can feel my blood begin to boil as they continue to be morons. My jaw tightens. "Okay," I say, teeth gritted. "I've had enough with football. I'm going upstairs." I quickly stand up only to be dragged back down by my arm.

"Aw c'mon boy! Don't leave us now!" My dad says, slinging his arm around my shoulder.

"Yeah!" Skeeter slurs, slapping my thigh. "We're just about to watch a movie!"

I take my father's arm off of me. "Sorry, Dad, I just don't feel very well."

He looks disappointed, but let's me go. "Okay, son. Hope you feel better." He gives me a kiss on the top of my head before standing. "I'm gonna get some food. You want anything, Skeeter?"

Skeeter shakes his head no. When my father leaves to go into the kitchen, Skeeter stares at me. "Feel better, champ." And soon his hand swats my lower back. Again. Ugh, now I really feel like I'm going to be sick.

"Touch me again and I'll kill you!" I hiss at him before I can help it.

He holds up his hands innocently, but it doesn't look like he is taking me seriously. He's looking at me like I just told a joke. What the fuck is wrong with him? What's wrong with me? Do I attract this sort of shit? What am I doing wrong?

I walk into the kitchen and grab a glass of water. My mom is in front of the sink doing dishes while my dad raids the fridge. On my way out I say, "Your friend touched my ass."

Then I leave.

When I make it upstairs, I see Ruby's door suddenly close. My eyes narrow and I go to her room. I don't bother knocking. When I enter, I see her sitting on her bed with a book.

"How much did you see?" I snap quietly after closing the door.

She looks at me innocently. "What are you talking about? I'm just reading a book."

"Didn't know you could read a book upside down," I say flatly. "So, I'll ask again. How much did you see?"

She realizes her mistake and sighs. Tossing the book, she looks at me square in the eyes. "I saw enough." Silence takes over for a few seconds before she continues to talk. "Craig, why is he doing that to you?"

"Doing what?"

"Fucking hitting your ass?!" she snaps. "We've known Skeeter since we were little and he's never done that to you before. So why is he doing it now?"

"How am I supposed to know?" I ask tersely. "He's a drunk pervert." And I turned eighteen a little while ago. Maybe that's also why.

"Tell mom and dad," she suggests.

"I did," I admit. "Just now before coming upstairs."

"And...?"

"And nothing," I shrug. "I didn't wait to see their reaction. Maybe they won't care."

Ruby clicks her tongue at me. "Of course they care..."

"Sure. Whatever. Look, like I said last night. Don't say a fucking word. Promise me."

Ruby looks as if she wants to refuse, but thankfully, she doesn't. "I promise."

I say goodnight to her, leave her room and enter mine. After closing my door, I slide down to the floor exhausted. Feeling overheated, I take my sweatshirt off and chuck it across the room, running a hand through my hair.

It's approaching midnight, but I'm not as tired as I was earlier. I whip out my laptop and decide to browse Facebook a bit. I really hate this fucking website, but I can't seem to quit it. As soon as I sign on, Kenny messages me. I can't help but roll my eyes.

KENNETH MCCORMICK: Hey!

CRAIG TUCKER: Hi.

KENNETH MCCORMICK: How are yah?

CRAIG TUCKER: Fine.

KENNETH MCCORMICK: What's with all the one word answers?

CRAIG TUCKER: Nothing.

I can tell he's getting frustrated with me. Does it make me sound like a dick if I say I'm glad?

KENNETH MCCORMICK: Alrighty then. So yesterday my dad went to your place. Was everyone behaving?

CRAIG TUCKER: What do you define as good behavior?

KENNETH MCCORMICK: LOL what happened? xD

CRAIG TUCKER: Same old shit.

Well, and some new shit but I don't want to get into that with him, especially not over Facebook.

KENNETH MCCORMICK: Oh, joy!

CRAIG TUCKER: The night ended unceremoniously with everyone passing out. My mom took care of everything. She's too good for my dad.

KENNETH MCCORMICK: I know. I feel the same way about my parents sometimes.

I tell Kenny I'm tired and I have to go and I log off Facebook. It's not because i'm actually tired though, I just don't want to talk about what happened last night.

I close my laptop and turn my light off before heading to sleep.

I dream that I'm running down the street, continuously looking behind me. He's going to catch up to me. I run into an ally and hide behind the dumpster, sinking into myself. I can hear the sound of heavy footsteps getting louder as my attacker gets closer. I cover my mouth, trying to hold back from possibly losing it. Soon, I feel hands grip onto my shirt and pull me to my feet, only to drop me to the ground and pin me to the rough pavement. Closing my eyes, I prepare myself for the pain that would soon take over, but I feel none. Instead, I feel a hand on the side of my face. I slowly open my eyes and see Kenny right above me. With gentle hands, he brings me into a sitting position before wrapping his arms around me. I can feel not only my heart race, but his as well. I feel him kiss the top of my head and whisper. "He's not going hurt you anymore. I'll make sure of that. I promise."

When I wake up, the sun is out. I grimace as I recall the faggoty dream. Jesus Christ. Why am I thinking of that annoying idiot? This is some gay shit. How embarrassing. At least it happened in my head. I won't be sharing.

Downstairs, Skeeter is passed out on the sofa like a piece of trash. I shake my head and move into the kitchen to make food. It's still pretty early. I'll probably be the only one awake for the next hour at least.

I decide to make eggs and I sit at the kitchen table and eat in silence.

Once I'm finished my breakfast, I put my dirty dishes in the sink and decide to study for a little. Taking out my English, I read Shakespeare for an hour until I hear a groan from the living room.

Looks like Skeeter is awake. He stumbles into the kitchen, obviously suffering from a hangover.

"You got any Tylonal 'round here?" he grumbles, holding his head.

Without even looking up from my book, I point to the top of the fridge where a bottle of painkillers is sitting.

God, what a disgusting display. I'm almost embarrassed for him. I go back to reading my book, but it's hard to focus. He sits at the table across from me and it's even harder. Damn it. As if Shakespeare wasn't already difficult enough without distractions.

"Can you leave?" I ask flatly. "I'm trying to study."

Plus, he smells like shit - like liquor and BO.

He takes the pill with my glass of water. Ignorant asshole. He puts his head down on the table and says "Kid, I'm not in the mood right now."

I scoff. "If you want to relax, why don't you go sleep on the fucking couch? Trust me. It'll help the both of us."

He doesn't move. Instead he ignores me and soon, he starts to snore. Feeling quite irritated, I close my book and walk out of the kitchen.

Upstairs, I can hear my parents arguing about Skeeter. They say my name a few times. I wonder what they're talking about. Part of me wants to listen, but other other part of me wants to pretend all is right in the world. Ha. That's hardly the case.

Nonetheless, I near their closed door. "I want him out, Thomas!" I hear my mom hiss out. "I don't want him near my son!"

I close my eyes. It's silent. My dad doesn't respond, so I decide to open their door.

"Oh, Craig," Mom says. "You're awake."

"Yeah," I murmur. "Why are you yelling?" I decide to feign naivety.

"I want your father to make his friend leave," she says simply. Her voice is high pitched again, like she's yet again trying to suppress how fucking angry she really is.

"Oh," is all I respond with.

"Don't go downstairs," she adds.

I don't bother telling her it's too late. I just agree, "All right."

Soon I hear my phone go off and walk back into my room to retrieve it. I can still hear my parents arguing, but grab my headphones and listen to music to block it out.

As my music plays, I check the notification on my phone. A text from Clyde.

CLYDE: Hey dude, you wanna go see a movie?

Me: Sure, which one?

CLYDE: I think it's called 'As Above So Below'

Me: Fine is it just us or are Token and Tweek going to be there?

CLYDE: Up to you dude.

I think about it. I really need to get out of the house. Away from my parents arguing and the guy passed out in my kitchen.

Me: They can come too if they want.

CLYDE: Tweek might get freaked out. We'll just give him some weed before the movie starts. Btw do you want Kenny to come too?

Me: Why the fuck would I want him there?

CLYDE: You're friends, right?

Me: I don't care, invite who you want and hurry up and come get me. I need to leave this place asap.

CLYDE: All right we'll be there shortly. Token's driving.

Me: Text me when you're outside.

I toss my phone on my bed and decide to get ready for the day. I've never heard of this movie, but hopefully it won't suck ass.

After quickly jumping in the shower, I get dressed into a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. It's been a while since I've worn something that isn't PJs or sweats. It almost looks weird on me. Soon, I hear a car horn and look out my window to see Token's Escalate.

I grab my wallet and head down stairs after announcing that I'm going out. Before I leave, I poke my head in the kitchen and see Skeeter still passed out with his head on the table. I roll my eyes. He looks so fucking pathetic. I leave my house, not bothering to lock the door, and get in the back seat of the car. I'm soon greeted with the smell of weed, a high Tweek, and Kenny's stupid grin.

"How's it going?" he asks, smiling.

"Fine," I say, not even bothering to look at him. "Get me the fuck out of here, Token."

Token gives Clyde a quick glance before putting his car into drive and we leave the front of my house.

It doesn't take us long to reach the theatre and I revel in the feeling of being around friends - comfortable people.

"Anyone have two bucks?" Kenny asks, sparing Token a glance. "I'm short."

The rich boy rolls his eyes, but he's smiling so clearly he doesn't mind. "Here," he says, digging two dollar bills out of his wallet.

"Thanks," Kenny smiles sincerely.

We buy out tickets and buy food. I skip out. I hate junk food and movie theatre shit is always ten times as expensive as it would be at a super market. Token ends up buying popcorn for everyone nonetheless. He's too nice. We move into our seats, waiting for the show to start.

I'm sitting in between Kenny and Clyde while Token and Tweek are at the ends

"So what's this movie about?" I ask dully.

"It's about the Catacombs," Clyde whispers. "Apparently it's kinda scary."

"Is that why Tweek is baked out of his mind?" Kenny snorts.

We all look at Tweek, who's staring at the ceiling, actually looking relaxed.

Soon the movie begins. About half way into it, something jumps out causing me to jump a little and grab onto something. I look down to see what I had grabbed. Ugh. I fucking grabbed Kenny's hand. I let go of it quickly and Kenny just smirks at me. Smug little fuck.

This movie is terrible. That's all I have to say... but at least I'm doing something. I hate horror. I could have lived my life happily not seeing this macabre shit, but at the same time I'd much rather watch a ridiculous movie than be at home with a nasty, old drunk. Christ.

When the movie is over, we all walk out of the theatre. Clyde seemed to like the movie, Token said it was okay, Tweek was too high to care and Kenny and I hated the movie. So there's a bunch of mixed reviews.

"C'mon, it was pretty good!" Clyde says, trying to convince me when we reach the car.

"That is your opinion," I say, deadpan.

Kenny adds into the conversation. "Yeah, I on the other hand thought this movie was a bunch of bullshit. The ending didn't make sense!"

"And that is your opinion," Clyde counters. Great, are we going to have this debate all the way home?

"Let's just agree that it was mediocre, just like most horror movies," I murmur as we all settle in our car seats.

"Yeah," Kenny agrees.

"It was way more original than most horror movies!" Clyde insists.

I rub my temples and Token starts driving. They continue to argue. I don't. I just stay quiet. I don't care enough to argue. "What now?" Kenny asks, interrupting their banter.

"Let's go to Token's," Clyde volunteers the rich boy.

"Just don't make a mess," he says wearily. He's too used to cleaning our messes and taking care of Clyde, who always drinks too much on weekends.

"We won't," Clyde promises.

"Gonna hang with us, Kenny?" Token asks.

"Sure," he says, glancing at me and giving me one of those lady-charming smiles. I want to scoff and tell him I'm not a girl, but I don't. Instead, I give him a cynical smile in return.

We arrive at Token's 20 minutes later and Clyde goes straight for the liquor cabinet. "Really?" Token says annoyed. "As soon as we get here you just have to go raid my liquor pantry, don't you?"

Clyde, taking a bottle of Jack Daniels out from the cupboard, rolls his eyes, laughing a little. "Dude, I'm not going to go over-board."

I swear to God, if he keeps doing this, he's gonna end up on Intervention like Towelie was when we were kids.

As Clyde pours us drinks, Kenny whispers. "So how long do you think he's gonna last?"

"I give it a half hour," I assume. "Maybe less."

Kenny laughs at that.

"It's Sunday, for fuck's sake," I mutter, grabbing the bottle from Clyde.

"C'monnn," he whines. "It's early. I won't be hung over if I drink before dinner."

I just stare at him. "I am not hearing this right now."

"C'mon, Craig," Kenny joins in. "Let him have fun."

Token pinches the bridge of his nose. "If he pukes, I'm killing him."

"I won't," Clyde promises.

I sigh heavily. "Fine." I hand him back the bottle and take my glass of alcohol. Everyone does the same and we down it within seconds.

.

.

I knew this was going to happen! I shouldn't have given him back that fucking bottle. Right now, Token and I are in the bathroom with Clyde who is, no surprise, puking his guts out. Tweek and Kenny watch the scene from the outside door.

Once Clyde is finished throwing up, he wipes saliva off his mouth and collapses onto the tile floor.

"Ugh... I feel like shit," he complains. Token sighs, gets down on his knees and looks Clyde in the eye.

"Yeah," Token says, patting Clyde's back. "That's what happens when you drink way too much and you don't eat anything beforehand."

"You should know the rules by now, champ," I add tartly. "Eat a lot and alternate your drinks. For every alcoholic drink, have a cup of water."

"Shut up," he mocks.

"Bite me," I retort. I'm not feeling sympathetic.

"Harsh," Kenny says to me.

"It gets tiring," I murmur.

"One to ten, how drunk are you?" he asks offhandedly.

"Four," I say. I don't really like drinking, especially not to the point of getting stupid. I'd rather keep my mind sharp.

Kenny scoffs in a joking manner. "Dude, you gotta lighten up! Relax!"

"I am relaxed," I lie.

"Well, you sure don't look like it."

I send him another cynical smile. "Maybe that's because I'm helping Clyde out with his –" Suddenly, I'm interrupted by Clyde vomiting again. This time, on the floor near my feet. I cringe. "Issue," I finish.

I glare at Clyde while he continues to groan. Kenny smirks, while Tweek rambles on about Clyde being dead and us getting caught or something.

"He's not dead, Tweek," Token says, calm.

"I wish I was," Clyde moans, holding his stomach.

I leave the doorway and return to the rec room. Kenny follows, naturally. "Tweek," I call the other blond so he doesn't drive himself up the wall watching Clyde hurl out his guts.

The three of us sit on the sofa. I'm in the middle with Kenny and Tweek on each side. "So..." Kenny starts.

"So," I say flatly.

"Argh!" Tweek says, shaking. "D-do you think Clyde will be o-okay?"

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, he does this shit all the time. You know that, Tweek."

He nods in agreement. "I-I guess so."

Soon, Token emerges from the bathroom with a little bit of vomit on his shirt. "Guys, I think it might be best if you left. Clyde's passed out on the floor."

Kenny shakes his head in disbelief. "Do you honestly think that we're going to let you take care of Clyde by yourself? Not happening."

Token smiles slightly. "Look, I've done this before. Just go home, guys, I don't want you to have to deal with him in this state."

"All right," I relent. I don't even want to be here anymore. What a wasted night. Clyde is such an attention seeker sometimes. My limited knowledge of pop psychology lets me assume it's because of his mom's death. I feel bad for him, but I'm also a very impatient person.

I stand up and nod to Token before letting myself out briskly. I don't wait for Kenny or Tweek. I just walk down the driveway and start making my way home. Clyde is probably going to have to skip school tomorrow. It's only dinner time, but he'll still be hung over by morning.

Kenny and Tweek catch up with me as I march towards my house. On our way back, we drop Tweek off at his place, say a quick goodbye and leave. Now it's just Kenny and me. The trip there is silent. We're almost at my house when Kenny speaks up, glancing my way. "I had fun today, Craig. It was great seeing you again." I only nod and he smiles at me. "So how was the rest of your weekend?"

I shrug. "Fine, I guess."

"Just fine?" he pries.

I shrug again. "It was annoying."

"Care to explain?"

I let out a sigh. "My dad had all his drinking buddies over, so it was loud. I didn't sleep well." A half lie, but oh well. He doesn't need to know the rest.

"Ah," he gives a long nod. "Trust me, I know how that feels."

"Yeah," I murmur.

"I had to get some stupid project done for Garrison's class," Kenny complains.

"Hm," is all I say. We arrive at my house shortly and I go up the stairs slowly. I turn to see Kenny looking at me with a weird gaze. "What?" I ask briskly.

He shakes his head and smiles. "Nothing. I'm just glad we got to hang out again, even after all that's happened." He walks up the stairs to my house, getting closer to me. "You know I still feel really guilty about what happened. I can't even go to sleep at night without feeling like shit."

"Good," I say and he looks sort of crestfallen. I let out and sigh and add, "I forgive you."

"Do you?" he asks.

"Yeah, I don't care anymore," I tell him. "What's done is done and I shouldn't dwell, right?" Forgive others. It's too painful to hold grudges. Blah, blah. It's tiring.

"Thank you," Kenny says, grinning from ear to ear. "I know I'm going to have to earn your trust back and it could take some time, but I'm glad you've forgiven me." He walks down the stairs but turns back around, smiling. "I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

I nod and give him a faint smile. "Sure. Goodnight, Kenny."

I open the door and walk inside feeling the nice warmth of my home and the smell of pizza lingering. "Craig?" Ruby calls from the kitchen. "Is that you?"

"Yeah!" I announce. I hang up my jacket, take my boots off and head into the kitchen. "Where's Mom and Dad?"

Ruby scoffs. "You should've been here. This was one of the worst disagreements they've had in a long time."

"Still doesn't answer my question," I reply flatly.

She sighs before mumbling. "Mom went to the store and Dad's at the bar."

"Ah. No surprise there." I sit at the table and watch my sister cook our dinner.

"So, you wanna know what happened?" Ruby asks, watching the oven

"No. But I know you're gonna tell me anyway."

Ruby laughs dryly, taking our dinner out and placing it on a wooden board before putting it on the table and cutting it. "Alright." Ruby says, sitting down. "So, long story short, Mom and Dad were fighting about Skeeter."

I cringe. "They were still fighting about that when I left?"

Ruby nods her head. "Mom kept saying she doesn't want him around us and Dad kept saying he's done nothing wrong and she shouldn't be a bitch about him."

"Dad doesn't think he did anything wrong..." I repeat in a murmur. "Wow, he must really hate me."

"Don't say that," Ruby says awkwardly.

I let out a bitter laugh. "It's true if he's really going to side with his repulsive friend over his own son." For some reason, I'm not as surprised as I should be. Nonetheless, I feel betrayed. Family is supposed to stick together and all that dumb shit, right? Ha. What a load of shit.

"Craig –" Ruby says sounding piteous.

"Don't talk to me like that," I growl, interrupting her.

She stares at me, confused. "Like what?"

My fist clench and I feel myself cracking. "Nothing," I croak.

Ruby bites her lip, obviously stopping herself from saying anything more. I push my food aside and go to my room without a word, leaving my sister with the lukewarm pizza.


	10. Chapter 10

Kenny's POV

I let out a long yawn as I make my way through the school hallways. Yet another dreary morning. Clyde isn't here. No big surprise. When I see Token I wave and make my way towards his locker. "How's Clyde?" I ask.

He grimaces. "Don't even get me started.

"All right, all right," I laugh.

"Did you walk Craig home?"

I nod.

"He's so weird lately," Token murmurs.

I only shrug. "I think he's fine."

"Oh, well," Token dismisses. "He's always a bit weird, I guess. It must come with all the stifling he does."

"Probably," I agree somewhat thoughtlessly. We walk to class and the day begins.

Kyle and Stan ask me how my weekend was when I arrive and take my seat. I basically tell them about Clyde's drunken adventure and Stan laughs.

"Not cool, dude!" Kyle says, elbowing Stan in the ribs. "Remember, I've had to help you when you were that fucking drunk. Multiple times."

Stan turns pink in the cheeks. He's about to comment on Kyle's remark when the art teacher tells us to get ready for the lesson. We end up talking about social issues. "The reason why I brought this up," she continues, "is because I want you to create a piece of art work that represents a social issue of your choice. Choose one you feel passionate about." She goes to her desk and hands out a rubric for the project. "By the end of the class, I want you to say which one you have chosen."

I decide to draw a really big dick. Kyle and Stan roll their eyes at me. When I'm done drawing the king sized dong I draw some tiny people staring up at it.

"What the fuck does that represent?" Stan asks.

"I'm going to assume it's the social inequality of the sexes?" Kyle ventures. "Male privilege?"

"Uh," I pause. "I hadn't really thought this through. I just had dicks on the brain... but that's a good one. When the teacher asks that's what I'll say. Thanks, Kyle." I wink at my pal, who rolls his eyes.

Stan is drawing a dog behind bars. I don't bother asking him what that represents. If I do he'd just start crying about all the poor animals being abused and put down and tested on. Kyledraws a picture of a man with a big ol' nose. I'm assuming it's something about anti-Semitism. Cartman draws a similar picture with a plethora of swastikas, however I'm sure his point of view is much different than Kyle's.

I decide to stand up since I'm done first. I go around and look at everyone else's pictures. "What's that?" I ask, pointing to Wendy's drawing.

"A fedora," she says simply.

"Why?" I ask.

"This represents the struggles of all girls who have experienced the horror of a self-proclaimed friend-zoned nice guy," she says bitterly.

I can sense the disgust in her tone. I pat her on the shoulder before taking a peek at Bebe's. She's drawing a picture of a fat chick. When she catches me staring she sighs and says, "Body shaming."

I make an 'o' shape with my mouth before I continue scoping out everyone else's art. Token draws a gun. "What's that for?" I ask.

"Racist, trigger-happy cops," he says simply.

I wrinkle my nose, nodding understandingly before moving along. I take a look at Red's and can easily tell what it is. A girl is crying in the fetal position with a cloud over top. Depression.

"That's really good," I praise.

Red simply shakes her head. "This was my original picture." She flips through her sketchbook until she finds the correct page. I place my hand over my mouth and almost choke. There's a picture of a boy looking downcast. Behind the boy is an older man. "Sexual Assault," she whispers, offering me a side glance.

I continue to look at the picture in shock and horror. I can feel myself starting to get emotional. All I see in that portrait is Craig and that fucking criminal. I swallow a lump in my throat before croaking. "You used a male instead of a female to be the victim?"

Red nods. "Yeah, I mean… it's not only women who suffer from this crime. Men are also victims of rape."

"Trust me, I know," I murmur. She gives me a look, like she wants to ask but forces herself not to. "Boy scouts," is all I say.

Her eyebrows draw together with sympathy. "I'm so sorry…" she whispers.

"You should use them both," I tell her.

She wrinkles her nose. "I don't know. Is it too much?"

"It's reality," I say simply. "Reality is never too much. To say these topics are too heavy... is to ignore issues that are deeply rooted into society. For someone to ignore these topics – all the topics I've seen… to be able to ignore these topics is like waving your privilege around. If we do that, we don't do a damn thing to help society progress."

"Alright! Pencils down!" our teacher suddenly announces. "So we are going to go around and tell the class which issue we chose."

She turns her attention to Kyle and tells him to present first.

After about 10 minutes, everyone has presented except Red. She tells everyone what she told me about sexual assault. People actually seem to be surprised by a subject so harsh. Until Eric tries to open his big mouth.

"Hm, that picture reminds me of someone," he muses. "But who could it be?" Fuck, not this again. I get up from my chair, ready to take one for the team and do anything means necessary to shut him up. Just as he was about to say anything more he was interrupted by the shrill sound of the bell.

"Aw, God dammit!" he shouts, angrily.

I sneer at Eric. "You're such a fucking pig," I say.

"Don't say that about pigs," Kyle cuts in, joking around.

I only smile. He grabs his super best friend and the two of them leave the room. I give Eric another nasty look before following them. Begrudgingly, he does the same. In the end, we're all he's got. We're the only people patient enough to deal with his disgusting personality.

.

.

The day continues to drag on slowly. I'm in my last class staring at the clock as the sounds of ticking echoes throughout the room. I only have 10 more minutes and then I'll be getting the hell out of here!

As Mr. Garrison drones on and on about Disney songs and how poorly they're written, I take my phone out and text Craig.

ME: Howdy-ho!

CRAIG: Hi.

ME: What's up?

CRAIG: Sleeping.

ME: it's almost 3:00 pm!

CRAIG: Yeah, so? I like sleep.

ME: Is that why your skin is so nice?

CRAIG: Are you coming onto me?

ME: Maybe...

CRAIG: Well, don't.

I can't help but chuckle. Craig is a tough nut. Then again, I'm not exactly trying to crack him. I wouldn't do that.

ME: Want to hang out?

CRAIG: Depends what you want to do.

ME: We can sleep if you want.

CRAIG: Together?

ME: Yeah, but not like a sex thing. Just sleep.

CRAIG: That would be weird.

ME: No it wouldn't! Think of it like a bonding experience.

CRAIG: As long as you don't try to feel me up.

ME: I promise I'll be a saint.

The bell finally rings and I spring out of my seat, heading towards the door with my bag in hand. Before i leave the school, I let Karen know that I'm going to be at the Tucker residence."Damn, you've been spending a lot of time with Craig." Karen says, smiling. "Is there anything going on between you two?"

I shake my head, chuckling. "No. We're just friends."

Karen's smile grows. "You like him," she coos. "It's so obvious, yah big homo." I roll my eyes, ruffling her hair. I know she hates it when I do that. "Hey!" she protests.

I just wink before running off. It doesn't take me long to reach Craig's house. I walk up his driveway and ring the doorbell once before just letting myself in like I own the damn place.

"Hello?" I call, kicking off my shoes.

Craig's mom, Laura, appears. "Hello, Kenny. Craig is in his room."

"Thanks," I salute her before running upstairs.

I knock on Craig's door before letting myself in. Craig's lying in his bed, reading a Shakespearian play.

"Hey," I say, closing his door.

"Hi," he responds, marking the page he was reading and putting the book on his nightstand. "How was school?"

I shrug my shoulders and sit on the edge of his bed. "It was okay. Pretty boring."

"Ah," Craig says, nodding his head.

"How was your day?" I ask him.

"Relaxing, considering I was sleeping. Until you texted me."

"Sorry," I say.

He only shrugs.

"So, you like Shakespeare?" I ask.

"Not really," he murmurs. "He's overrated. Some of his story ideas are interesting, though, I'll give him that."

"Oh," I chuckle, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. "I could never understand him."

"It's old English," Craig says. "You may as well be reading French."

"Yeah..." I wrinkle my nose. "Sometimes I wish I was gifted in languages like Wendy." Or Eric. Apart from English he speaks German and Spanish, but I won't put him on the list because he's the scum of the earth. I guess it doesn't speak to highly of me either since I still associate with him. He's kind of like a plague. You can't escape.

"Hm," Craig muses. "What other language does she speak?"

"Arabic," I say, recalling the incident with Ms. Ellen back in her jealous days. "I think her mom is from Syria or something."

"Oh, wow," Craig murmurs.

"Yeah, remember when she was jealous of Stan and that 3rd grade teacher who turned out to be a lesbian?"

Craig lets out a dry laugh. "Oh yeah, didn't Wendy send her to the surface of the sun or something?"

I nod, trying to stifle a laugh. After we finish laughing at the memory, Craig is interrupted by a small yawn. "You're still sleepy?" I ask. He nods and moves over, offering me to lie down beside him.

We lie in silence. I stare up at the ceiling and simply think. I want to talk - I mean, there are loads of things I want to say... but I don't. For now, I just let the silence sit. I know enough about Craig to know that he enjoys the quietness.

"Kenny?" I hear.

"Yeah?" I ask.

A pause.

"Nothing. Nevermind."

"All right," I say. I won't push. I won't pry.

We continue to lie in silence for ten more minutes, until I hear light, even breathing. I look to my right and see Craig's eyes are closed. I turn onto my side to face him. His lips are slightly parted and his breathing is slow and soft. I can't help but smile. He looks younger when he's sleeping. Somehow , I brush his bangs away from his face and place my hand on his cheek. Craig unconsciously leans into my touch. I take my hand off of his cheek and hesitantly wrap my arm around him. I'm preparing myself for Craig to wake up and kick me out, but instead, I get the complete opposite. He unknowingly moves closer to me and leans his head into my chest.

"Cute," I whisper to myself. I relax and close my eyes, allowing myself to drift off as well.

.

.

When I open my eyes, Craig is already awake. He's got the Shakespeare paperback in his hands once again and he looks studious as he leans against the headboard of his bed.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey," he echoes, staring down at the pages instead of at me.

I rub the sleep out of my eyes as I sit up. "What time is it?" I ask, yawning.

"Eight," he says casually.

"Seriously?" I look at my phone and realize that he's there's laughing followed by a crash from downstairs. Shortly after, I can hear curses coming from Mrs. Tucker.

"Oh yeah," Craig says. "Our fathers are downstairs drinking with Randy and Skeeter."

I roll my eyes. "You've got to be kidding. It's a fucking Monday!"

Craig sighs, finally looking at me instead of his book. "Go see for yourself."

"Gross," I say.

"All they do is drink," Craig says. "I think it's a problem."

"No shit," I mutter in agreement.

"My parents have been fighting, too," he adds. "It's annoying to have to listen to that shit."

"Yeah," I sympathize.

Soon, there's another crash.

"God dammit." Craig growls. He gets out of bed and storms out of his room, obviously pissed. I follow him down the stairs and into the living room.

"Can you guys shut the fuck up for just once in your lives?" he yells, standing beside the couch. His voice goes unnoticed by everyone except for his dad and Skeeter.

"Language," Thomas warns.

Craig sneers. "I hate you," he says venomously. I stand awkwardly in the doorway and watch the back and forth between Craig and his father.

"What?" Thomas asks as if he hadn't heard it right.

"I said," Craig reiterates, emphasizing each word, "I hate you. You must hate me to if you're still associating with that!" He points to Skeeter, who doesn't look fazed.

"Now, listen here –!" Thomas starts, temper rising along with his voice.

Craig doesn't. Instead, he lifts a lamp off the side table and smashes it on the ground, cutting his father off. "No," is all he says after a brief silence.

Thomas stands up to confront his son, until a hand stops gets up and makes his way towards Craig.

"Thomas, I've got this. I think Craig and I need to have a heart to heart talk."

Craig balls his hands into fists. "Don't you dare come near me, you fucking pig," he warns, teeth gritted.

Skeeter looks hurt, but shakes his head and says before heading into the kitchen. "I promise this will be quick."

Craig switches his gaze from Skeeter to his father. His dad glares at him, mouthing, "Go."

I don't really know what to do. It's always an awkward time when you're at a friend's house and they start fighting with their family. Do you stay? Do you go? Do you intervene? Do you sit back and listen? Do you pretend everything is fine? I don't fuckin' know, so instead I linger uncomfortably.

Craig growls in detest, but storms off into the kitchen withSkeeter. I look back to Thomas, my dad and Randy. They're not even paying attention to what just happened! I scoff angrily. Just as I'm about to say something, I hear Craig shout, "You know exactly what I'm talking about, asshole!"

My curiosity gets the better of me and I sneak my way to the kitchen. I watch through the doorway as I see this argument unfold. Craig's flushed and his eyes are glazed over.

"You're overreacting," Skeeter accuses.

"I'm not..." Craig murmurs.

"I need you to calm the hell down, boy," the fat old hick continues. "If you keep stirring the pot, you'll only cause yourself more problems. I've known you since you were a little boy and I only have your best interests in mind."

"God, wow, really?" Craig laughs cynically at the shit coming from Skeeter's mouth. "My best interests? Did you really have my best interests in mind when you grabbed my ass?"

What...? Skeeter did what?!

"Well, I –"

"No! You didn't! You were only thinking about yourself and fulfilling your sick, sexual gratifications!"

Suddenly, Craig is silenced by a slap to the face. I want to go out there and kick that fucking pervert's ass for hitting Craig, but my feet stay firmly planted to the ground.

Craig places a palm over his cheek, simply staring in disbelief.

After a moment, Skeeter grabs him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close to his face until they're only inches apart from one another.

"You listen to me, you little shit. I'm tired of your crap."

"You're tired of my crap," Craig repeats, showing disdain in his voice. He lets his hands fall to his side somewhat lifelessly.

I can feel my heart beating rapidly in my chest. I'm sure Craig is even more afraid than I am. Without further hesitance, I decide to make myself known. "Hey," I say, sauntering into the room. "What the fuck is going on?"

Skeeter lets go of Craig's shirt and turns around. He lookssurprised for a few seconds before returning to his normal, sleazy-eyed self.

"Oh, nothin'. We were just finishing our conversation, weren't we Craig?" Skeeter clasps his hand onto Craig's shoulder roughly, giving it what looks like a hard squeeze.

Craig winces and nods, refusing to look me in the eye. Skeeterlet's go of his shoulder and marches out of the kitchen, obviously pissed that I cut the conversation short.

"How much of that did you hear?" Craig says with a weary sigh.I walk over to him and put my hands on his shoulders comfortingly. He shakes me off. "Seriously," he urges. "How much did you hear, McCormick?"

Ah, he's using my surname again. "Most of it," I admit.

His jaw tightens. "I hate him. Being around him makes me nauseous."

"Yeah," I whisper. "It's no wonder why."

There's a small silence throughout the room. "Has he... Done anything like this before?"

Craig shakes his head, but I can tell he's lying.

"Are you sure?"

He lets out a shaky breath. "This basically started a few days ago." His voice begins to crack. "I tried telling my parents, but my dad doesn't believe it." He laughs cynically. "Fucking typical."

Before I can get another word in, the front door opens. When I think it might be more friends of Thomas's, I'm somewhat relieved to see Craig's mom walk through the door. She pauses briefly before stomping into the noisy living room. "THOMAS TUCKER!" she shrieks. "I THOUGHT WE TALKED ABOUT THIS!"

Craig gives me a dull look. "Here we go," he murmurs.

"Want to step outside for a bit?" I offer.

"No," he says with a sigh. "Let's just go upstairs. I don't want to be down here."

As Craig's parents continue to argue, we sneak out of the kitchen and head upstairs, unnoticed. Following Craig into his room, I close the door to give ourselves some privacy.

"I think it was him," Craig says out of the blue.

"What?" I ask, slightly confused.

Silence.

"Craig, say it," I plead.

"I think he was the one who did it," he reiterates flatly. "Who... fucked me."

I can't help but cringe at that. Fortunately, Craig doesn't see. He's too busy staring off into empty space.

Wendy once told me the perpetrators are often people you know and, to an extent, trust. Craig is probably never going to trust anyone again.

I curse under my breath, running my fingers through my messy hair. I sit on the edge of Craig's bed next to him, looking at him.

"You really believe it's him?" I ask and Craig nods. "Then you should tell your parents."

He rolls his eyes and huffs. "McCormick, I've tried. But –"

"No," I interrupt. "I mean about everything. But that's your choice. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to do."

"My mom would believe me," he says surely, "but I don't really want to tell her more than I already have. I think she'd be devastated."

"But what about you?" I murmur the question. "Aren't you devastated, too? You're the one who was wronged here, Craig."

He lets out a long sigh. "I know, it's just..." he trails off.

"Hard?" I venture.

"Yeah," he says. "My dad just thinks Skeeter's behaviour is a joke – something to laugh at. I know it scares my mom, though. He's grabbed her before, too, and still my dad laughs. She's never protested it until I told her he did it to me, too. She's like that. She could take it if it was just her, but now that it's me… She doesn't want him in the house... especially not while I'm here."

"No shit," I whisper. "Christ."

Craig sighs heavily, putting his head into his hands.

"I don't know what to do."

I put my arm around his shoulder and rub his arm comfortingly. "You have to do what is best for you." I move his hands out of the way and lift his face so he's looking at me. "You need help, Craig. But you have to help yourself before anyone else can help you." He lets out another sigh. I'm not sure if he's irritated with himself or with me. "So," I say, "What are you going to do?"

"Wait," he murmurs, lying back onto his mattress.

"That's all?" I ask.

"That's all."

I'm at a loss. Part of me understands why he stays so quiet, but the other part of me wishes he'd make a scene.

I lie next to him. "Alright." I murmur. "I know you'll tell them when you're ready."

We lie in his bed in a comfortable silence for what seems like hours, but is soon interrupted by my dad yelling.

"Kenny!" he slurs, obviously drunk. "I need you to take me home, son!"

I roll my eyes. "God dammit." Slowly, I lift myself off of the bed and take a few seconds to stretch. "You gonna be okay?" I ask Craig, concerned.

He smiles wearily. "Yeah," He says. "Just go take your dad home before he pukes on my carpet."

I laugh. "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow?"

Surprisingly, he nods, but plays it cool. "Whatever."

I wink at him before leaving the room. Downstairs my dad is holding onto the railing. "Come on," I say with a sigh. He gives me his car keys and I drive his beat up truck home. We drive across South Park – to the poor part of town – and I park the car. Inside, my mom is in the living room with Karen. They're watching some reality TV show.

My mom looks over and sees her drunken husband. "Aw, for fuck's sake, Stuart," she complains, rolling her eyes. "I thought I told you not to drink too much."

"Shut-up," He counters. "You were way worse than this last week!"

The fighting will now commence in 3, 2, 1 –

"That's not true, asshole!"

And here we go. While our parents start their argument that will last probably all night, Karen and I sneak off into her room.

I close the door so we can have some peace and quiet and sit on her bed across from her. "So, how was your day?" I ask, giving her my full attention.

She shrugs. "Meh, it was alright. After school, Mom and I got to talk and have some fun. She wasn't even drunk or high until we started watching TV."

I'm glad Karen and Mom were able to get some bonding time. It makes me happy, knowing that both of our parents are trying to make an effort in being in our lives.

What surprised me even more was when dad asked me to drive him home. I decide to tell Karen about that. "I mean, usually he tries to drive himself home," I continue, "but he didn't. He just asked me to."

Karen smiles, nodding. "Good."

"It seems minuscule, but I'm kind of proud of him," I chuckle.

"So, how's Craig?" Karen sings, wiggling her eyebrows. "Did you guys have any fun?"

I snort. "He's fine. And yes we did, just... not in that way, ify'know what I mean."

Karen laughs. "I know, I'm just messing with you." Her laughing dies down and her expression turns a little more serious. "But seriously, is Craig okay? Every time I try to ask Ruby she looks down at her feet and refuses to say anything."

"I can't really say he's okay," I sigh. "But he's doing better than he was originally."

"Good," she murmurs.

"I think Craig is kind of detached," I say. "Whether it's a good thing... I don't know."

"Hm," she muses. "He's always been like that - for as long as I can remember."

"Yeah," I agree. I look at the time and notice that it's pretty late. "Hey, I'm gonna get some sleep." I say, standing up. "You should probably get to sleep too."

Karen nods, followed by a tiny yawn. We say our goodnights, hugs and kisses all around then we part ways.

In my room I turn the light off, strip into only my boxers and flop into bed, allowing sleep to take over.


	11. Chapter 11

Craig's POV

It's Tuesday morning when I wake up, maybe around 9am. I don't typically wake up this early, mainly because I don't want to… but no matter how hard I try, I can't get back to sleep. Lazily, I drag myself out of bed and head to the bathroom to relieve myself before going downstairs. I go into the kitchen and grab a bowl and some cereal. Just as I go to grab the milk, I notice a little note on the fridge.

Craig, your dad is sleeping. Be sure not to wake him up unless there's an emergency.  
I just went to the store to get some groceries, should be home in an hour.

Love you!  
Mom

I roll my eyes. The apocalypse wouldn't even wake my father – especially not when he's sleeping off a hangover. I place the note on the counter and grab the milk, filling my bowl. I sit at the table and eat in silence. Ruby runs downstairs, grabbing a granola bar from the cupboard.

"You're going to be late," I tell her.

"I know, I know," she groans, running out the door.

Once I'm finished eating, I decide to go to watch some TV. I get myself comfortable on the couch and start to flip through channels only to be interrupted by a text message. Rolling my eyes, I automatically think it's Kenny. But surprisingly, it's an unknown number. Feeling suspicious, I open the text message. All it says is:

You ready for round 2? Because I know I am.

My heart drops into my stomach. Feeling nauseous, I begin to panic. My rapist knows my number. I'm fucked. If he knows my number, he'll be able to find me.

"No, calm down," I whisper to myself, taking a deep breath. I quickly sneak upstairs and into my parents' room. Being careful as to not waking my father, I grab his phone from the nightstand and speed my way out of the room. Locking myself in the bathroom, I slide to the floor and take out the two phones.

I turn my dad's phone on and go to his contacts. I click on Skeeter's name. Looking at his number, I compare it to the unknown number on my phone.

They're both the same.

I bite my lip, throwing my phone in the toilet. I feel clammy and my body is too hot. I feel like I'm burning up and the nausea is coming back. I turn on the shower taps and get inside without bothering to undress. I sit under the nozzle, letting the cold water soak me to the bone. I feel like I might have a fucking heart attack, but I keep taking deep breaths.

Breathe in.

Hold it.

Breathe out.

Suddenly, there's banging on the door. "Craig?" Oh shit. My dad. "Can you unlock the door so I can get a painkiller? My head's pounding."

I do nothing. I feel like I can't even function I feel like I'm frozen.

My dad continues to knock on the door. "Son, you alright in there?"

"I'm in the shower," I call hoarsely.

"Unlock the door," he calls back. "I need Advil."

"One sec!" I bite the inside of my cheek. I turn off the taps, quickly stripping out of my drenched clothes and putting them in the hamper before grabbing a towel. I wrap it around my waist and close the toilet seat lid since my cellphone is still drowned inside. When everything is normal, I open the door. "Sorry," I apologize, hiding his cellphone behind my back so he doesn't accuse me of snooping.

"Thank you!" he exclaims with impatience. He goes into the cabinet and grabs the pills before turning back to me.

"Damn, you don't look so good." My dad comes up to me and lifts my face up to his. He moves my damp bangs off my face and touches my forehead. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." I say, pushing his hand away. I'm just about to go to my room when my dad stops me.

"Where the hell did you get those bruises?" he asks, scarily calm.

Shit. I forgot about the fucking bruises. Sure, they're better compared to when my mom saw them, but they're still noticeable.

"Why don't you go and ask Skeeter?" I bite out. I toss his phone back into my parents' room before stomping into mine to get dressed. I throw on lazy clothes. I pull on a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt.

What now? I feel like I keep asking myself the same questions and giving myself the same answers. Nothing changes. Nothing ever fucking changes.

I feel like I'm going absolutely nowhere. I might as well give up on telling my parents that I was assaulted by a family friend. There's no point. Dad doesn't believe me, and I don't want to put any more stress on my mom. I just have to go living my life.

I'm brought out of my thoughts when I hear someone knocking on my door. "Leave me alone! I don't want to talk to you, Dad!"

"You can't make accusations like that and walk away!" he says, outraged.

"It's not just an accusation," I growl. "It's a fact." He doesn't respond. "I'm your son!" I shout somewhat desperately. "Why don't you believe me?"

I'm not one for lies. I never have been. The lies I tell... are to protect myself, I suppose. I'd never lie about a thing like this. He should know that. He should know me.

Everything goes quiet for a minute until my dad speaks again. "We're continuing this conversation when your mother gets home," he says, sternly. "Obviously you're hiding something." His voice gets a little softer. "I care about you, Craig. You're my son and I love you."

"Then why don't you believe me when I tell you that Skeeter is the one responsible for hurting me?" I scream angrily. Once again, I get no response. "I'm done talking to you," I growl. "Leave me alone!"

I hate shouting. Really, I do. I get headaches when I shout too much. My body doesn't handle stress well. Maybe that's why I'm always apathetic. It's hard lately, though. Understandably, right?

I lie down, not bothering to move to my bed. My head is pounding. I don't want to budge an inch. "Fuck," I whisper, rubbing my temples.

I close my eyes. Maybe more sleep will help.

.

.

When I wake up from my nap, it's already noon. Mom should be home by now. Great.

Knowing I can't avoid this, I get out of bed and head downstairs. My headache has changed from a sharp pain to a dull ache. I enter the kitchen hesitantly and am greeted with two pairs of concerned eyes.

"Hi," I say flatly, giving them both an expectant look. I cross my arms and wait for them to say the first words.

"We want to talk with you," Mom starts.

"Yeah, no shit," I say flatly.

She gives me a pointed look, telling me not to be saucy. "Your father told me about what happened. We're really concerned Craig."

I scoff. "I believe you're concerned, Mom," I say bitterly. "I'm not so sure about him."

My dad looks angry and a little hurt when I say this, but he keeps his mouth shut. My mom holds his hand comfortingly. "Remember what I told you when we were driving home from the hospital?" she asks. "Talk to me when you're ready?"

I nod my head. "I'm not ready to talk about it." I say stubbornly.

She shakes her head and smiles sadly. "Honey, I can tell when you're lying. I think you want to tell us, but you won't let yourself because you're scared."

I'm about to protest, but Dad cuts in. "It's okay to ask for help Craig, we love you and we hate to see you hurt." He takes a deep breath and holds it before letting it out. "I know I haven't been the best father to you and your sister. But I promise, I'm going to change that."

"Oh, really," I murmur, not entirely convinced. I feel nauseous. I don't know how I'll get the words out.

"Yes, really," he says.

I don't know whether or not I should believe him – but maybe this is where trust and faith in people comes into play. Clyde always used to tell me I need to have more faith in people and stop thinking the worst. It's too tiring to hold grudges. So, here goes. In a flat, emotionless tone I tell me parents, "I didn't get mugged. I got raped."

My mother chokes back a sob. "What?" she croaks.

"I was raped," I say again, my voice cracking. I don't feel any better. In fact, I feel worse. But I expected this. Through glazed eyes, I notice my dad's tight-jawed and his fists are clenched. "It happened at work," I add in a murmur.

"And you think it was Skeeter?" Dad ventures.

"Yes," I say in the same, flat tone. Actually, I don't just think it. I'm quite sure. I feel like sinking into myself and melting away. I'm not one for this interventionist sharing and caring kind of shit. I feel more uncomfortable now than I've felt since that sick pervert forced himself into me. "Don't bother doing anything. There's no point. He's just going to deny it, plus it's too late to get evidence."

My mom hurries over and wraps me tightly into a hug; I don't hug her back, though. Instead I just push my face into her shoulder, trying to contain my emotions. "Sweetheart," she whispers. "When did this happen?"

I swallow thickly before whispering. "Two weeks ago."

Nothing else is said after that. I feel overwhelmed. I announce that I need to be alone and turn to exit the kitchen. I can feel the tears in my eyes starting to leak out. I wipe them away furiously, but they keep falling down my face.

"Ugh," I whisper, pissed off at myself for crying like a bitch. I briskly wipe my eyes some more, but it won't stop. I move down the hallway and back upstairs into my room. I feel heavy, like it's taking a lot for my legs to push my body forward. My head feels the opposite - light and airy, like there's nothing good inside.

Why did this have to happen to me in the first place? It's not fucking fair.

I slam my door and begin pacing. I grab my hair tightly and look down at the floor, trying to find ways to calm myself down. Breathe in and out. Distract yourself. Nothing helps. Until it hits me. I look up from the floor and my attention goes straight to my nightstand.

Slowly rising from the ground, I slowly take a few steps towards the drawer and pull out what I was looking for.

I sink to the floor again and sit against my bed, looking at the sharp object. I remember how good it felt. There's a little voice in my head reminding me. I try to ignore the voice but it starts to get louder, trying to offer me relief. I roll my sleeve up and place the glass shard on my skin. I'm just about to make my first cut when I hear a voice –

"Don't you fucking dare."

Kenny. That asshole. I should've fucking locked the door.

"You're a cunt," I murmur flatly.

"Am I?" he asks carelessly.

"Don't tell me what to do and what not to do..." I continue in the same, dull tone.

"It's for your own good," he insists.

"Don't make me fucking laugh," I bite out. "I'm the only one who knows what's best for me."

With one quick movement, I break skin. Blood pours down my arm and Kenny rushes over. We fight for the piece of glass. Kenny gets it out of my grasp and chucks it across the room. I try to lunge for it but he holds me down. I struggle to get free but he's too strong. Eventually, I give up and go limp. I'm fucking weak.

Kenny wraps his arms around me and gently rubs my back, whispering things like. 'It's okay. I've got you.' And all that faggy nonsense. It's pissing me off.

My heart is beating really fast. I'm sure he can feel it, too. After a minute, I murmur, "Get off me, asshole."

He moves away and stares down. "You're lucky it was a shallow cut."

"I could do worse," I threaten airily.

"Yeah, I don't doubt that," he admits, "but hopefully you won't."

I'm still lying on the floor - staring up at the ceiling. I don't want to move. I don't want to talk. I don't even want to think. Nonetheless, I can't help it. "Am I selfish?" I wonder.

"No," he insists. "Why would you think that?"

"I don't really want to die," I tell him.

"I know," he says gently. "People do things when they're in pain – things they wouldn't normally do. It doesn't make you selfish."

"Hm," I mumble. I put a hand on my chest. My heart is still beating fast. I don't know why.

"What's wrong?" he asks, concerned.

I take a few deep breaths and sit up slowly, grabbing my chest. "My heart, it's –"

Out of the blue, Kenny takes my other hand and places it on his chest. "Yeah, mine too." He slowly starts to move forward and his eyes close as he leans in.

For some reason, I let him. For some reason, I don't push him away. When we're a mere inch apart, he hesitates as if to silently ask permission. Instead of speaking, I lock an arm around his neck and pull him near. Our lips touch and he probably thinks I'm inexperienced and awkward, but he doesn't say anything. He's clearly had more practice than me. It's no secret he's been around - with boys and with girls. I've had none of that. All I have is what was forced onto me.

After a few more moments, we separate for air, our foreheads touching briefly. Kenny grabs my wrist gently and examines it. "Let's get this cleaned up."

He helps me stand up and leads me to the bathroom. He tells me to sit on the toilet before grabbing the first aid kit.

Once he has everything he needs, he begins to fix my arm up. "This might sting a little," he warns, spraying antiseptic onto the cut. I grit my teeth a little at the uncomfortable sensation.

As Kenny continues to clean my wound, I say quietly, "I finally told them about what happened… My parents, I mean."

"Really?" he asks, placing gauze and medical tape on my arm. "What did they say?"

"Mom was sad and Dad was angry," I say, placing a hand on the bandaged cut.

Kenny nods sagely. "Understandable."

"I know," I murmur. "I'm kinda sad and angry, too."

"Yeah," he whispers.

I stand up and lift the toilet lid up, grabbing my phone. "Ew," I cringe. I place it on the floor quickly before going to the sink to wash my hands thoroughly.

Kenny gives me a weird look. "Why the hell was your phone in the toilet?"

I turn the tap off and dry my hands with a towel. "It fell," I say, casually.

Kenny snorts back a laugh while I roll my eyes. We go back into my room and we waste time. We sit on my bed and I listen to him talk about stupid things – the kind of shit I don't really care about knowing, but it's a distraction, so I don't mind.

"I like you, Craig," he says out of the blue. "I like you... like... a lot. Maybe it's a bad time to talk about it, but I mean it. I really like you."

"I know," I respond flatly.

"So," he pauses, "I guess this would normally be the part where you say you do or don't feel the same... but I won't push."

"I think you already know what the answer it," I tell him.

It's stupid that I had to fall for someone after all this shit happened. I wish I could do it all differently. I wish I could do it all the right way. Then again, maybe there isn't necessarily a right way. I just wish I could be lighter. I just wish I could be happier. I think it would have been nice for Kenny to have been the first person to touch me, but it's too damn late for that.

"Does it make me sound like a whiny baby if I say I just want to hear you say it?" Kenny asks with a laugh.

"No," I murmur, "I guess that makes you reasonable... but I'm a stubborn asshole."

"You're not an asshole," he promises. "Stubborn, a bit, but not an asshole."

"Well..." I start. "Either way, I feel the same way. Okay?"

He smiles. "Hella."

"Hm..." I lean against my headboard and stare at him. He has blue eyes, like me. He's attractive. He has the tall, tanned and blond thing going for him. He's really attractive. I'd be blind not to see it. Everyone sees it and maybe that's why he always gets what he wants - who he wants. He's probably used to it. "Does it bother you that I have no experience?" I can't help but wonder.

"No way," he promises me. "Does it bother you that I'm a shameless whore?"

"You shouldn't call yourself that..." I try to reason.

He just shrugs carelessly. "It's just a word, I suppose. It doesn't hurt when I say it about myself."

"Well, as long as you don't cheat and mess around we're five by five," I tell him.

Kenny continues to smile brightly. I don't normally smile, but I decide to return it. Everything stays quiet for a few moments until I hear something that sounds like a growling bear. Kenny laughs sheepishly. "Sorry, I didn't have lunch. I just left school to come see you."

When he says that, I feel a warm, almost tingly feeling in my chest. Is that normal? Am I feeling like that because of Kenny? Ugh. I brush it off and get off my bed. "C'mon, let's get some food. I'm kind of hungry too."

He follows me downstairs and to the kitchen, passing my parents in the living room. Once we get a bag of chips and some other snacks, we make our way out of the kitchen. We're just about to go upstairs when I see Kenny pause, standing beside the couch watching the news. Curious, I walk over to where he's standing.

"What's going on?" I ask.

Kenny just shushes me quietly as the Channel 4 news report comes on.

"Good afternoon." The anchorman says. "I'm Tom Pusslicker and today a horrifying discovery was made when citizens found Jimbo's Guns to be robbed. Here is Chris Swollenballs with more on this story."

Soon, a report shows up on screen, standing in front of Jimbo's Guns. "Thanks, Tom. The store seemed to be robbed early in the morning. Unfortunately there is no trace of the suspect in the building other than the fact that 3 pistols and one AK-47 was stolen along with a dozen rounds of ammo. Police state that this thief has already robbed two stores, excluding Jimbo's Guns, and have been looking for –" Suddenly, the man stops talking and holds his ear piece before speaking again. "Tom, it looks like the police – yes! The police have finally caught the criminal!"

The screen cuts back to the anchorman. "Thanks, Chris. It has been discovered that the criminal is Skeeter (insert last name here). He's been caught breaking into an electronics store in Denver and has been arrested for armed robbery."

Suddenly the camera pans to his disgustingly familiar face as he's shoved into a cop car.

I bring a hand up to cover my mouth as I watch the screen. Without even thinking, I begin to laugh. "Oh, my God!" Kenny's lips quirk upward as he glances at me, but he says nothing. "Oh my, God!" I say again through further laughter. "Oh my, God!"

"See?" he finally speaks. "Sometimes people get what they deserve."

My dad gets up from the couch and touches my shoulder gently. Out of the blue, he pulls me into a huge hug. Hesitantly, I wrap my arms around his big form. It feels weird receiving affection from my father. But it also feels good. "I'm so sorry," he whispers in my ear. "I should've believed you. But I was being a stupid asshole."

"It's okay," I say, having calmed down. For some reason, I'm shaking though. It's probably the lingering excitement of it all. He lets me go a minute later and gives me a sad smile. "Really," I say. "It's okay."

"I'll make it up to you," he promises.

I simply nod and my mom hugs me next, kissing my face. "How do you feel?" she asks me when we part.

"Relieved," I admit before frowning.

My parents notice. "What's the matter sweetheart?"

"Nothing," I say, shaking my head. "It's good, right? He got what he deserved…"

"Of course, sweetie," Mom says.

I simply nod before excusing myself and wandering back upstairs and into my bedroom.

Kenny follows, asking, "Hey, are you okay?"

I sigh, sitting on my bed. "Honestly, I don't know."

"It's sudden, hm?" Kenny asks.

"I don't care about that," I say. "I don't care about him... I mean, it's justice, right?"

"Yeah," he nods.

"Now that I don't have to worry about him anymore..." I pause, sighing. "I kind of feel like I'm being forced to put all my worrying onto myself and how I'm going to... heal, I guess?"

"Understandable," Kenny murmurs. "It's hard. I can't begin to imagine what you went through but the fact that you're here and you're talking about it... Well, that says a lot. You're strong as hell, dude."

"Hm," I muse, wondering if it's true. "I don't feel strong."

"There are different kinds of strength," Kenny says.

"I suppose so," I relent.

Kenny gets down in front of me and places a hand on my cheek. "Hey, look at me." Reluctantly, I do what I'm told. He's smiling. "Don't sell yourself short. You survived something really horrible. You are strong, Craig. Even if you don't believe it."

I give him a dull look, moving his hands away. "Fine, all right," I murmur. The worst is over now. It can only get better from here. Blah, blah, blah. I lie back on my bed and stare up at the ceiling.

"Good?" Kenny asks.

"As good as I can be," I tell him.

Kenny flops onto my bed beside me and places his hands behind his head. "So, what'cha wanna do?" he asks. "You wanna watch a movie?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't care."

"Great!"

He jumps up from his spot on my bed and grabs my laptop on my desk. "What movie do you wanna watch?" he says hopping back onto my bed. "And don't say things like, 'I don't care,' or 'You choose.'"

"But I seriously don't care," I say and he gives me a pointed look. "It doesn't matter," I murmur. "I won't be able to pay attention to whatever it is, so just put what you want on."

He sighs, but relents. He scrolls through my torrents and puts on My Neighbour Totoro. "Something light," he nods.

"All right," I say.

He turns the movie on and soon I'm overwhelmed with bright colors and weird looking creatures that look like the mix of a cat and a rabbit. It's kinda cute though, I guess. Halfway through the movie, I can feel my eyes starting to droop. Kenny seems to notice and asks if we should turn the movie off.

"No," I yawn. "I want to keep watching."

"Alright," he says.


	12. Chapter 12

Kenny's POV

Craig looks tired. I can't help but understand why. He must be exhausted - physically and mentally. The movie plays on and his eyes are closed, but I don't mention it this time. I let the movie play on as we sit shoulder to shoulder against his pillows. Soon, I feel a weight and see that Craig is leaning against me. I smile at the sight.

When the movie ends, Craig is out cold. He's snoring softly and looks like he's in a deep sleep. Putting his laptop aside, I carefully lay him down on his pillow. Unconsciously, he turns over to his side, facing away from me.

"See you soon," I whisper in parting. I turn his lights off and close the door as I leave his room.

I bid his parents a goodbye when I'm downstairs. They look weary, but they offer me smiles before I leave.

Outside, it's cold. My nips could probably cut fuckin' diamonds. I zip my coat up, putting my hood on before darting down the main road.

I look at my phone to check the time. School just ended right now, so I might as well head home. I make it home in about ten minutes only to be greeted with the sound of... silence?

"I'm home!" I greet. Nothing. Curious, I head into the kitchen and take in an odd sight. My parents are sitting at the table… quietly. They aren't arguing. They don't even look angry at each other. My mom is beside my distraught father, comforting him.

"What's going on?" I immediately ask. "Are you okay, Dad?"

He doesn't even acknowledge my presence.

"Yeah," my mom says. "He just found out that Skeeter was arrested for robbing that store in Denver. It's kind of shocking to him."

Dad puts his head in his hands. "I knew he wasn't the smartest guy in the world and drank a little too much," he says. "But I didn't think he would do anything illegal."

"Oh," is all I say. I know a lot more than I'm going to let on. "Yeah, he's kind of a dickhead, so who cares?"

"Kenny..." Mom warns softly.

"What?" I shrug. "It's true."

"He stole a lot," Dad mutters. "He'll be away for a long time."

"Yeah," I snort, not caring one bit. In my opinion, he needs to be put away for life. After what he's done, he deserves to rot in prison… but no one knows about that.

"How could he be so selfish?" My dad yells. "He has a fucking daughter for Christ's sake!"

Yeah, that sucks. Poor Red. Fuck, she must be devastated right now. In a way, I kind of know what she's going through. I remember when my parents were arrested for having a meth lab in the backyard. So, my dad is being a bit of a hypocrite, but I won't call him out on it. "Some parents don't give a shit," I say, pointing out the obvious.

"Hrmph," he grumbles, crossing his arms.

I go to my room afterwards. I don't really want to me around my dad when he's this sour and cranky. Well, he'll get over it. He still has other shit heads like Randy to hang around with. Sometimes I wonder if we'll be like our parents when we grow up. I fucking hope not.

Just then, I get a text from Stan.

STAN: Hey dude!

Me: Hey what's up?

STAN: Nm, but you missed a lot at school!

Me: What do you mean? I left school at lunch.

STAN: Yeah, and shit went down!

Me: Why? What happened?

STAN: I don't know, all I saw was Red being escorted through the halls by police and some woman in a suit!

Ah, shit... Poor Red. Hopefully it'll blow over for her and she won't have to be harassed by asshole kids like Eric.

Me: That sucks.

STAN: Do you already know what happened?

Me: I think everyone knows.

STAN: Yeah, probably.

Me: I feel bad for her tho.

STAN: Same, but I'm sure she'll be okay.

Stan and I go on to talk about random shit until he says he's gotta go meet Kyle for a project.

Me: Man, you guys have been spending A LOT of time together. A lot more than usual heh… ;)

STAN: Shut the fuck up dude!

Me: Is there something going on that you're not telling me ;) lol

STAN: There's nothing going on between us!

Me: Are you suuuuuure? ;)

STAN: YES! And stop it with the winky faces!

KENNY: Lol ok chill TTYL!

I put my phone on the floor next to my mattress and lie down with my hands behind my head. What a day. I'm sure Craig is thinking the same thing. I hope he's doing all right. I wish I could do more to help him, but I'm going to force myself to be realistic. I know as much as I can offer him, he's the one who needs to be in charge of his healing process.

That could take a while, but he'll get help once he's ready to receive it.

.

.

The next morning, I arrive at school earlier than usual. I decided to be responsible for once and get some of the work that I missed yesterday. That doesn't mean I'm going to make it a habit though. I reach my locker and just as I'm about to get my stuff, I glance to the right. Craig's old locker. I sigh heavily. It's not fucking fair. Why did he have to be expelled because of something Eric caused? He didn't deserve it.

I'll say it yet again: Eric should have been expelled, but that fat turd always gets away with shit. As psychotic as he is, he can be the complete opposite in the eyes of authority figures. It's always been this way. He charms his way out of every situation with a smile on his face. Fuckin' asshole.

I'm brought out of my thoughts when I hear another locker door open. Red. Her hair's tied up into a messy bun and she's wearing pajama pants. Hesitantly, I walk over to her. "Hey, Red?"

She turns and faces me with bloodshot eyes. No doubt she's been crying. "Hey, Kenny," she says, sounding completely exhausted.

"L-look," I stutter. "I heard about what happened yesterday, a-and I just wanted you to know that... if you need anyone to talk to, I'm here. Unlike a lot of kids around here, I know what it's like when your parents fuck up."

Red shows me a sad smile and quietly says. "Thanks." She grabs the books she needs and closes her locker door. "See you in class."

It's a wonder she's at school. Then again, it's probably a lot better than being at home right now. I grab my things from my own locker before turning down the hall. In class, Kyle and Stan wave me over. Eric is sitting with them. Joy. Nonetheless, I join them.

"Hey," I greet, sitting down. I'm acknowledged with a bunch of hellos plus one insult.

"'Sup, Poor-boy."

I roll my eyes. "Not much, Fatass," I counter.

"Ay!" Eric goes on a ranting spree about how he's not fat, but I refuse to listen to his garbage. Soon, the teacher walks in and naturally, starts lecturing about some artist who cut his ear off for his girlfriend. Man, sounds like he was one fucked up individual. Then again, who isn't fucked up? I guess there are only different levels of fuckery.

Class goes by without a hitch, but it's boring as hell. I fucking hate school. After Art, we have English and then it's lunch break – the only good part of the day.

During lunch, I check my phone for text messages, notifications, anything. But I come up with squat. I'm just about to message Craig when I hear Eric's obnoxious laughter. "HAHA! I still can't believe the police came to take that bitch yesterday! I wonder what she did, maybe she was caught prostituting or something!"

What a fucking asshole, if he keeps talking like that, rumors are gonna go around the school. "Dude, shut the fuck up!" Kyle hisses. "That's not what happened and you know it! We all know it! You just keep making shit up, trying to stir the damn pot, well fucking stop!"

"Yeah," I snort. "And lest we forget, you're the one who gave some random dude a BJ in an alleyway. You can't talk shit about hookers with that on your record."

"Plus sucking Butters' dick is also on the list," Stan adds with a laugh.

"And gave a handjob to a certain famous actor," Kyle winks.

"Okay!" Eric growls. "Shut the fuck up!"

"You started it," I sing-song.

Everyone excluding Eric laughs until the bell rings. I pack up my stuff and head to my class, not like I'm going to do anything though. I'll probably just sleep in class.

.

.

The rest of the day goes by quickly, considering I slept in all of my classes, and soon I'm now meeting Karen in front of the school doors.

"Hey!" she says, coming out of the school. "Is it okay if we drop Ruby off on our way home?"

I shrug my shoulders, smiling. "Sure."

We wait for Ruby to come out of the school as more students exit the building. Finally, after ten minutes of waiting, she shows up.

"Hey," I wave to her.

"Hi!" Karen greets.

Ruby nods to us and the three of us walk side by side.

"So... what took you so long?" Karen asks her.

"I was looking for Red," Ruby admits. "My brother wanted me to see if she was okay."

"I'm sure she's fine," I say. "Don't worry, Ruby."

We start our journey to the Tucker residence. The girls are talking about some new kid in their class, while I just stay comfortably quiet.

Just as we arrive to Ruby's, she asks Karen if she wants to stay to work on homework. Immediately, Karen jumps inside the house. "You wanna come in?" Ruby asks me politely.

"Would Craig mind?" I wonder.

She shrugs. "Probably not. He likes you."

"Does he?" Of course, I know that... but it's still nice to hear.

"Yeah," she laughs. "He does."

"All right," I smile, following the girls inside.

We all go in and meet up with Craig in the living room.

"Hey," he says flatly.

"Hey," I greet, smiling.

Ruby and Karen announce that they're going to be in her room before they take off. Once I hear the door close, I surprise Craig with a kiss on his cheek.

His hand immediately goes to his cheek as he wipes the kiss away. "What was that for?" he laughs dryly.

I shrug, grinning. "I don't know, I just missed you."

"Gay," he taunts.

I just shrug, still smiling. "Half right, I guess." I sit down next to him on the sofa and ask, "So, how are you?"

"Fine," he answers. "You?"

"Good," I say. There's an awkward silence. I can tell something is bothering him by the way he's playing with a strand of his hair. "Okay, what's wrong?" I ask.

He knows I'm expecting an answer, so he instead of denying it, he answers. "I don't normally feel bad for people, most of the time I couldn't give a shit if something dramatic is going on. But I feel bad for Red."

I sigh. "I know, but she'll get through this." I pat him on the back encouragingly. "We've known her since kindergarten. She was a tough cookie even back then."

Craig just shakes his head. "No, I'm not only talking about the robbery."

Is he saying what I think he's saying?

"Don't tell me you actually feel guilty that Skeeter's in prison." I say, raising my eyebrows. "Dude, this was not your fault! It's his! He made his stupid decisions and he deserves to be in prison!"

Craig only sighs, rubbing his weary face with his hand. "I know, and another thing... Red can't find out what happened to me. At least… not any time soon."

I'm about to say something but close my mouth. In a way, Craig's right. If Red found out that her father actually raped someone, she would be a fucking wreck. It's too soon. "Yeah," I murmur.

Craig nods lazily, rubbing his temples. "Anyway, enough about this..."

"Are you sure?" I ask. "You can talk about this stuff, you know. I don't mind listening."

"I don't need to," he insists.

I relent, "All right... but you know, I still think you should see a specialist."

Craig rolls his eyes at me, exhibiting incredible amounts of distaste. His eyes nearly roll back into his head. "No," is all he says.

"All right," I say again.

A pause. "Someday, maybe," he murmurs, "but not now."

I smile. "Okay." For now, I'll take it.

.

.

We decide to go out to Stark's Pond, so we let Karen and Ruby know that we'll be gone for a couple of hours. "Okay!" they say in unison.

After putting on our jackets and boots, we leave Craig's house and are immediately hit with cold wind and snow.

Ah, good ol' South Park.

When we arrive to Stark's pond, I take out a cigarette and light one up. When I inhale, I immediately feel a little more relaxed. I haven't had a cigarette in a while, so feeling the head rush of it is almost like a slightly new, but also familiar sensation.

"Want one?" I offer, handing one to Craig. He nods, putting it in his mouth and lighting it quickly. I wonder when the last time Craig had a cigarette since all of this happened.

We take our time walking, but it still doesn't take long for us to turn up the road and reach the pond. It's frozen over, of course. We sit on the cold snow near the edge. Neither of us are shivering. Maybe it's because we're used to it.

When I'm finished my cigarette I throw it onto the pond's surface. When Craig is done his, he digs a hole in the snow and buries it.

For about an hour Craig and I speak about random things. He tells me that his mom is homeschooling him so he can get the rest of his credits. But he also says he doesn't know if he's gonna go to college or anything. "I really don't see a point to it," he says. "I've already spent enough time learning about pointless shit. I just want to live my life."

"Mm," I mumble in agreement.

"Well, nothing too exciting," he adds.

"Of course," I say with a smile.

Day turns to night and the hours continue to pass. Neither of mention the sun going down. We just sit here talking. Talking about the past, the present, the future and everything it may hold.


	13. Chapter 13

Kenny's POV

I'm on my way to pick up Craig from therapy. It's only been about two months since Skeeter was arrested and a lot has been happening. Craig decided he was ready to see a doctor a few weeks after the arrest was made. It's his fifth session and, although he hasn't spoken about it much, I think it has been helping.

I sit in the waiting room and when Craig leaves the office, I rise to my feet. "Hey," I lean forward, pecking him on the lips.

"Hey," he says, smiling slightly.

"How was it?" I ask as we leave hand in hand.

"Good," he supplies vaguely. A typical answer, but I simply nod and never pry. He'll talk to me when he wants to talk to me.

Outside, the snow is melting and it's getting warmer. Summer will be here soon, but since this is South Park, it won't stay for long. None of us will complain. We all like the winter. The cold is what we're used to.

"So," I say. "Have you spoken to Red lately?"

Craig nods. "Yeah, I spoke to her on the phone. She sounds like she's been doing better."

"That's great!"

Skeeter's trial was a couple of days ago. Craig and I promised Red that we would be there for her. Craig ended up changing his mind at the last second. When we got to the courthouse he hesitated and he thinks Red has the right to know why. So today, he's going to tell her what happened.

When we arrive to her house, I stop Craig for a moment. "You sure you want to do this?"

He nods and knocks on the door. "She deserves the truth. I mean, it'll never be easy to talk about but it's not as hard as it used to be. I'm working through it… slowly."

A few moments later, Red answers the door and greets us both with small hugs before letting us inside.

"So, what did you want to tell me?" she asks.

Craig motions towards the couch, letting her know to sit down. For a long time, it's quiet. Neither Red nor I dare break the silence. I hold Craig's hand in mine, letting him know I'm not going anywhere. When we're all seated, it's quiet. Soon enough, Craig lets out a sigh and says, "I know that I've been absent lately... but this year was really hard for me." Red tilts her head, nodding sympathetically. "I'm getting help now, though," he continues, "So, it's easier to talk about."

"That's good," she says softly.

"I was assaulted early on in the year," he tells her. His voice is cold and hard. There's no emotion - no sadness, no anger, no shame. Nothing. He's distancing himself from the memory. "Well, no… I was raped." Red's expression changes to that of shock. She brings her hands up to cover her mouth, eyebrows drawing together in sadness. Craig gages her reaction and simply nods. "I know," he says. "Awful, right?"

He's right. The words come out easier for him now. I'm sure it still hurts him to talk about it and maybe it always will, but it doesn't hurt him as much as it used to.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," she whispers sincerely, letting her hands fall back onto her lap.

"There's a reason I'm telling you this, Becca," he says, using her nickname. "Your father did it."

Red looks completely withdrawn. Her eyes go wide as she weakly murmurs, "What...?"

"You heard me..." Craig whispers.

"Oh, God..." she nearly sobs, staring at him with a mix of apologetic pity and genuine sadness.

"You deserve to know the truth," he finishes.

Her eyes start leaking so she closes them and nods her head. "Thank you," she says quietly. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," he assures her. "You didn't do anything."

Red puts her head into her hands, letting out a quiet, yet gut wrenching sob. "I know. But I can't believe my own father could do something s-so cruel!"

She continues to cry and Craig lets go of my hand, moving towards her. He hesitantly wraps his arm around her comfortingly. She launches into his touch and hugs him tightly, grabbing his shirt. Craig gives her a proper hug as she continues to cry into his chest, apologizing profusely over and over. It's kind of hard to watch. I lean in to see Craig's reaction. He looks completely composed. God, he's strong. He's really fucking strong.

Soon, Red begins to calm down. She let's go of Craig and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry," she says weakly.

"Stop apologizing," Craig says, surprisingly gentle. "It's not your fault that this happened. I actually didn't want anyone to know." He glances my way. "The only reason this asshole knew is because he doesn't leave me alone."

Red emits a soft laugh while I pretend to be offended. "Ow," I touch my chest.

Craig smiles a small smile. When they part, he adds, "I know it goes without saying, but I'll say it anyway – Don't tell anyone."

Red swipes at her eyes. "I won't," she promises.

He simply nods his head. "Thanks."

.

.

We hang around for a little while longer until Craig stands up. In silence, me and Red follow and she walks us to the door.

"See you soon?" Craig asks her.

"Yeah, soon," she says.

Craig and I both give her one last hug before leaving her house.

"Where to next?" I ask, taking his hand into my own.

"Wherever," he says without a care. Ah, typical.

I keep him close and we just walk. I glance over and see a serene look on his face. It's refreshing to see him look content.

I'm brought out of my thoughts when I hear a voice call my name.

"Hey, Kenny!"

Craig and I look behind us to see Stan and Clyde. Once they catch up with us, they ask if we want to go play basketball with them.

I look at Craig, silently asking if he wants to go. He smiles slightly and nods.

"Sure!" I say, happily. "Why not?"

We all race to the basketball courts and standing there are Kyle, Tweek, Token and Eric. I can see Craig tense up a little when he and Eric make eye-contact, but he relaxes a little when Eric turns back to argue with Kyle, who has his boy Stan as back up.

The fat ass won't be causing trouble anymore.

We all divide into teams and the game begins. I'm teamed up with Stan, Kyle and Eric. Craig is teamed up with Clyde, Token and Tweek. Their team wins. Of course. Eric complains while Clyde rubs it in his face. Kyle shrugs and Stan laughs with good humor. Me? I don't care either way. I just like seeing Craig have fun - though he'd never admit to it.

I stare at Craig across the court as he lifts the edge of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow. When he catches me staring, he holds up a hand and starts moving towards me. Once we're face-to-face I lean forward and kiss him.

"Gay!" Eric calls at us while the others just whistle. Bunch of nerds.

Craig laughs into my lips, pulling away and flipping everyone off. He's beautiful and he's mine and I'm his and it feels fucking right.

I think I fucking love him. Someday soon, I'll tell him. Maybe he'll chuckle at me. Maybe he'll say it back. Maybe he won't. Either way, I feel it in every inch of my fucking being. I feel it in my core.


End file.
